


Reinne

by CrushingOnRazz



Series: All Razz and Blue Stuff [5]
Category: Written in the Scars
Genre: Abuse, Angst, F/F, Fear, Forced miscarriage, Heavy Angst, Miscarriage, Violence, Violence against women, abusive king, all non-sexualized, all noncon is fade to black or aftereffects, basille and blue are the same character, because they're especially rough, domestic abuse, for the most part it just has heavy themes but there are a few chapters ill mark, idfk guys, idk why i just gave them medieval names that i use for a few things, its a vent fic of sorts that turned into a whole world, reinne and razz are the same character, the halle in this is not the same halle/hailey you usually see, this is just a really heavy story, this story has a little bit of like every bad thing ever, this story just makes me so sad okay, usually when razz is a woman but not just pre-transition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:06:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 51,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrushingOnRazz/pseuds/CrushingOnRazz
Summary: A tyrant of a king is about to lose the support of his people. In a last-ditch attempt to gain some loyalty, he inducts the first-ever female member of his royal guard. No one could have predicted how badly it would backfire for every individual person involved.Prequel to Sun and Moon, and I recommend reading that first, but this can absolutely be read alone or be read first.
Relationships: Reinne/Basille
Series: All Razz and Blue Stuff [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743484
Kudos: 5





	1. An Uncommon Woman

**Author's Note:**

> This is an incredibly rough story, but any abuse or non-con is either fade-to-black or only the aftereffects are written. Still, be careful going into this. I'm not going to be tagging chapter by chapter except for a few of the more extreme ones. 
> 
> For those familiar with my characters and worlds, Reinne is Razz and Basille is Blue, but the Halle in Reinne is not the same Halle/Hailey you usually encounter in my stories, this is an entirely different character

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If the king’s proclamation was true, she might go to Banamore. She felt a momentary flash of anger at the country that had caused her father’s death, then shook it away. Where else could she possibly go? Where else would there be a call for a woman of her training? Where else could a woman such as herself find purpose? 
> 
> With the promise of a new peace treaty, in reaction to both countries' grief at losing a fine man such as Karlen, there was even a hope that perhaps, Reinne would be able to live as she was. Maybe she would no longer have to hide herself, even if she stayed in Saibhadha. 

Reinne stared down at the ivory cloth in her hand, gently smoothing her thumbs over the fabric as she considered whether it was worth it to pack. She was trying to travel light, but she had yet to decide where she would go, and her manner of dress would vary wildly based on the place she ended up in. There were not many places in Saibhadha like this house, holding a man who would allow her to wear her buttoned shirts and pants. Karlen had always been unique in those terms. 

She had only been a child when she first met him, laid up in the cabin of the woman who would sometimes let Reinne sleep by her fire. It was long before he became the general of the king’s army, back when he was a simple commander, hunting boar alone like the fool he sometimes was. He had been gored, of course, and lucky that there was a medicine woman so close to his hunting grounds. 

Reinne had stared in fascination at his sword, and he had encouraged her to pick it up. Her small hands hadn’t even been able to circle the hilt, but she remembered him smiling as he asked where her parents were. 

“I don’t have any,” she had replied, and something had lit up in his eyes as he held out a weak hand. 

“Would you like to come with me when I have recovered enough to return to my home?” 

The memory brought tears to her eyes, and she bowed her head. It had been impulsive, she thought. Crazy, even. She didn’t know her exact age, but she couldn’t have been more than five or six. Even if his new wife had had no appearance of being able to bear a child, it was, in hindsight, a fool’s decision. How different her life would have been if he hadn’t done it. 

“So you’re going, then?”

Reinne jumped, dropping the folded shirt into the pile and looking over her shoulder. Karlen’s wife, Mari, had a half-hearted sneer on her face, leaning against the doorframe in a manner quite unusual for her bearing. If this woman had been any different of a person, Reinne might have comforted her. The grief they felt was not the same, but she could imagine the grief of losing a father being similar to that of losing your husband. “I know well enough that I’m no longer welcome here.” 

Relief flashed through Mari’s eyes, and Reinne sighed inwardly. There had been fear, she knew, of Reinne fighting for the title of heir. Karlen had named her, very much without his wife’s permission, but that was before the birth of their child, just a few months ago. Before the man they both loved so dearly had been killed in the war that had seemed nearly unending before today. 

“Where are you planning to go?” 

That was the problem Reinne faced, but she didn't want Mari to know that. Karlen had raised her to be a fighter, trained her to defend and protect with the expectation that she might take up his mantle. Now, though? 

If the king’s proclamation was true, she might go to Banamore. She felt a momentary flash of anger at the country that had caused her father’s death, then shook it away. Where else could she possibly go? Where else would there be a call for a woman of her training? Where else could a woman such as herself find purpose? 

With the promise of a new peace treaty, in reaction to both countries' grief at losing a fine man such as Karlen, there was even a hope that perhaps, Reinne would be able to live as she was. Maybe she would no longer have to hide herself, even if she stayed in Saibhadha. 

The sacrifice of losing her home, however, made her wish to stay rooted in place, so she had no answer for Mari. “I will stay with friends,” she lied. “I have a place I can go until a plan presents itself. 

Mari snorted doubtfully, and they both started as a baby’s cry echoed through the rooms. Reinne straightened up, wanting to go to the child she had begun to think of as her brother before Mari made a sound in the back of her throat. “I’ll tend to him. You finish here. I’ll send you with some money, and have the servants make you a meal before you go.” 

Staring at her, Reinne wrestled with what on earth to say in response to the unexpected kindness. She was rescued from having to make a decision, however, as there was a knock on the front door. Mari sighed before going into the baby’s room. Reinne stepped through the door, peering over the balcony around the stairwell to see a familiar face greeting the butler. 

“Thank you, but I’m here to speak to--” Byron glanced up, catching Reinne’s eye and smiling. “Oh, hello. Just the woman I came to see.”

Byron was a nice enough man, Karlen’s second in command since even before he had been made general. Now that Karlen was gone, he must have taken his place. Despite his sometimes odd manner, she would have had no one else filling Karlen’s shoes. 

“It’s wonderful to see you,” she said as she hurried down the stairs, clasping his hand and ignoring the butler’s grumbling at the casual greeting. “What brings you?” 

“I wanted to wish you well.” She looked at him doubtfully. “...and to extend an invitation.” 

An invitation? “We can speak in my room.” 

He followed her up the steps, and she closed the door behind them. If she had been any other woman, being alone with a man of Byron’s standing would have been the biggest risk of her life. As it was, though, she thought the servants might laugh until they burst at the idea of Reinne’s virtue being tainted by any man. 

“You heard the king’s proclamation?” 

It would have been hard to forget. He was an imposing man, tall and wide, swathed in his ornaments and his colored cloths even at a funeral. Reinne nodded. 

“He wants to start peace treaties, and he wants to begin by demonstrating his goodwill.” Byron looked uncomfortable for a long moment. “What do you know of the traditions in Banamore?”

“Not much. Their late heir was a woman, was she not? And I hear talk of them being much more open in their conduct, their gods not being so strict as ours,” she ventured, trying to keep the longing out of her voice. Her grandfather had served in the Banamoran army, she thought. Based on the stories she could remember her mother telling her, before she was old enough to comprehend them, she thought he had been the reason she and her mother had dark eyes and proud noses, something in the set of their jaws that hinted at mixed ancestry. She even remembered the worship of their goddesses being performed in their home, secretly of course. Such a thing was entirely illegal in Saibhada.

Byron nodded. “The king wants to show his willingness to compromise in these peace treaties. He would like to induct a woman into the personal guard of the queen.” 

Reinne laughed before she could stop herself. “No woman would be able to properly guard the queen! That sort of training is forbidden, and it would take years to--” she came to an abrupt stop as she realized what he was insinuating. 

“You’re the worst-kept secret of Saibhadha, Reinne,” Byron said gently. “The king knows much more of your capabilities than he ever allowed Karlen to find out, apparently. 

“Is this a command?” 

“No. But I know that you have nowhere else to go,” he said pointedly, looking at her pile of folded clothes and her half-packed bag.

This was not what she had wanted, and she bit back a bout of frustration. If she let herself think about it, she was angry at Karlen. Angry at him for dying, leaving her alone against his wife. She had loved him dearly, but he hadn’t prepared for his own mortality. The unthinking risks that he had taken had left her without much of a choice at all. 

“When do you need me at the palace?”


	2. Political Plays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woman at his side, however, Basille had never seen before. Her chin-length hair curled around her face, a brown mess that was nearly black. Her eyes were soft and dark, jaw sharp and stance straight. If Basille hadn’t known any better, she would have assumed she was a soldier, with the men’s clothes she wore and the hard expression on her face. She looked to be about Basille’s age, certainly young, but not so young she didn’t treat the king’s next words with respect, bowing to the ambassadors. 
> 
> “Allow me to introduce Reinne, the ward of our late General Karlen.” The Banamorans all looked at her doubtfully, but as Reinne straightened, she looked directly at Basille, the hardness in her eyes dissipating slowly as they inspected one another. Not seeming to notice either reaction, the king continued. “She is a rare thing in our kingdom, a woman trained in defense by the general himself. My soldiers have seen her grow up as a fighter, ready to protect her kingdom from any threat, and any one of them would attest to her capabilities.” 

Queen Basille winced as the laces at her back were pulled again, glancing over her shoulder to see Halle’s face set in a determined pout, gathering the ribbons tightly in her hands. Basille braced herself as the other tugged one more time, then tied the ends. When the hands left her, she groaned, slipping her hands down the cinched waist of the dress. Her hair was pulled away from her face, the similarly painful experience having resulted in a complicated pile of braids and curls. 

Normally, she had servants specifically for each task, who’s poking and prodding was limited to their bravery of causing pain to the queen, but Halle had no such qualms. 

“I understand that this is necessary,” Basille ventured, turning to see that Halle had crossed the room in order to arrange Basille’s bouquet of roses more carefully in their vase. She was a woman in her late fifties, greying hair swept into a careful bun and her clothes pressed and cleaned to perfection. As Basille spoke, she lifted a brow, unsuccessfully trying to disguise her smile. “But Halle, you really don’t have to pull so harshly.” 

“You need to look your best,” she said, coming back to Basille and taking her hands in her own. “The talks of peace _must_ succeed, you know that.” 

“The Banamorans are going to declare a new war if I don’t have you to poke and prod me into the perfect example of feminine beauty?” 

“No, but the king might.” 

It should have been entirely unfunny, but Basille found herself laughing anyway. The woman was rarely incapable of putting her into a good mood, no matter the events that preceded her. “Have they already arrived?” 

“They have,” Halle said, and Basille struggled for a moment with how to ask her next question. 

“Do you think this will actually change anything?”

Before the other could answer, there was a knock on the door. Basille glanced back, calling out an “Enter!” before the door opened, emitting a familiar pale man. Malak's eyes were narrow, squinting into the room before his dark hair and lanky figure. He wasn’t much older than Basille herself, perhaps twenty-three at the most, and had been serving as her personal guard since she’d become queen. His voice was raspy as he greeted her, bowing quickly. 

“I’m here to escort you to the throne room, your highness. The Banamoran dignitaries are ready to meet, and the king wishes you present to hear his plan of peace.” 

“Thank you, Malak,” she said, grinning at him. She had her door guards, and men who filled the castle and the grounds, which made Malak’s job almost useless. On normal days, he was mostly there to accompany her outside the castle, and to make her look more impressive to visiting dignitaries, but in the years she’d grown to know him, he’d expanded his job of his own volition. The man really was dedicated to the queen’s safety, determined to make himself useful. “Is it a meeting of the court only, or may I bring--”

“I was instructed to bring you alone, my lady.” 

That’s what she had expected, and she nodded quickly to Halle, smoothing down her skirts one last time as the other carefully placed her crown atop her head. “Good luck, your highness,” Halle murmured, and Basille smiled. 

“Lead the way, Malak.” 

Much of the inner court had already arrived before Basille swept into the room, the king sitting atop his throne and laughing with one of his advisors. Her chest tightened as she saw him, but she ignored the feeling as she took her place at his side. With her arrival, the advisors and lords began to take their own seats, a few greeting her quickly as they passed. 

“Basille,” said a voice to her left, and she jumped, looking up at King Tyrrel. He seemed to be inspecting her, eyes jumping briefly to where Malak stood just behind the thrones. “Keep your head, if you would. These talks must succeed.” 

“Yes, my lord,” she murmured, turning to face front and biting back a smug smile. The king may be an imposing man, but his hold on this kingdom was weak. If the war continued from his own petty mistakes, he would soon lose the support of his people. If it hadn’t meant the deaths of so many, she almost would have wished for it to continue. 

“Watch your tone,” Tyrrel growled, and despite herself, Basille flinched. 

Before either of them could continue, the doors opened, and the ambassadors stepped through. They had firm jaws, fire in their eyes, and Basille was shocked to see women among them. Three of them, to four men, in fact. She knew of their traditions, of course, but wouldn’t have thought them to be so bold. The women’s presence felt as though it was directed right at the king, a proverbial middle finger towards a kingdom Basille knew the Banamorans saw as being backwards and broken. 

They bowed, almost in unison, and one of the women stepped forward. She had tightly coiled hair and dark skin, wearing trousers and a tunic like all of the other ambassadors. The tunic was emblazoned with the crest of Banamore, and her expression, though pleasant, was tight. “We bring well-wishes from our royal family, and formally greet you, Queen Basille, and you, King Tyrrel.” 

The court murmured at her addressing their queen before their king, but Tyrrel silenced them with a look. “We welcome you with friendship, in the hope to mend ties between our great kingdoms,” he said grandly, inclining his head. “After the death of our great commander, we have found ourselves grieving as a land, and as king, I wish to put forth our goodwill.”

The woman bowed again in one smooth motion, then straightened. “I am Karline, head ambassador of state. Banamore also wishes to begin peace negotiations, but to be quite frank, your highness, we have no reason to believe that your promises are genuine.” 

“I thought you might say that,” Tyrrel purred, ignoring the reignited murmuring of his advisors. He gestured to his left, and a man Basille knew stepped forward, ushering an unfamiliar woman at his side. The man’s name was Byron, and Basille had known him since she was a child. He had served in the army of her home city, moved to the palace about the same time she became queen to serve in the main forces of the royal guard. He’d been the general’s right-hand man for years, and had just been named to be his replacement a few days before. 

The woman at his side, however, Basille had never seen before. Her chin-length hair curled around her face, a brown mess that was nearly black. Her eyes were soft and dark, jaw sharp and stance straight. If Basille hadn’t known any better, she would have assumed she was a soldier, with the men’s clothes she wore and the hard expression on her face. She looked to be about Basille’s age, certainly young, but not so young she didn’t treat the king’s next words with respect, bowing to the ambassadors. 

“Allow me to introduce Reinne, the ward of our late General Karlen.” The Banamorans all looked at her doubtfully, but as Reinne straightened, she looked directly at Basille, the hardness in her eyes dissipating slowly as they inspected one another. Not seeming to notice either reaction, the king continued. “She is a rare thing in our kingdom, a woman trained in defense by the general himself. My soldiers have seen her grow up as a fighter, ready to protect her kingdom from any threat, and any one of them would attest to her capabilities.” 

Was he… threatening them? Basille glanced away from the woman, taking in the expressions of the Banamorans. She had known of no such fighting woman, and wondered briefly why the king had allowed her training to continue. Perhaps it was one of his political plays, come to fruition at the most convenient time. 

“I greet you most warmly,” Reinne said, voice clear and light. Basille looked back to her, fighting a smile as she caught the other glancing at her yet again. There were many rumors surrounding the queen, she knew, and not many outside the castle had ever even seen her. 

Karline hesitated, then returned the greeting before returning her attention to the king. “I’m sorry, but what does this woman have to do with--”

“I am more than aware that in large part, the mending we will have to do between our kingdoms stems from our social differences,” Tyrrel said, gesturing for Reinne to join him and Basille on their platform. She obeyed, and he continued, standing to clap a hand onto her shoulder. “Reinne has agreed to stand as a symbol for our willingness to change. She is a trained woman, more than capable of providing protection. Thus, I have decided to assign her as a member of our personal guard, protecting my own dear wife, Queen Basille.”

The shock in the room was palpable, from advisors, dignitaries, and even Basille herself. She doubted that more than a handful of people had caught it, but her heart ached as she realized the slap in the face that the king was delivering. The Banamorans had no way of knowing, of course, just how empty of a position protecting the queen would be, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Tyrrel had purposefully intended for this so-called symbol of change to be such a mockery. 

They still seemed hesitant, but after a long pause, Karline nodded. “We appreciate this gesture of goodwill. Reinne?” The woman in question lifted her chin, giving the dignitary her full attention. From behind her, Basille could see her fingers fidgeting nervously behind her back. Karline continued. “Do you give us your word that you are qualified for this position? That you are capable of protecting your queen to the fullest?”

Reinne’s fingers went still, clasping tightly together in determination. 

“Absolutely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the case of world-building confusion always feel free to leave a comment and I'll be all too happy to explain!
> 
> Again, in the case of anyone familiar with my characters, this Halle is not the same character as the usual Halle/Hailey you see. There's a reason they have the same name but it'll be a long time before it comes up.


	3. Spectacular

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes,” she’d said, leaning against the windowsill to watch the fight. “Isn’t she spectacular?” 
> 
> “Perhaps the king found more than he bargained for,” Halle had murmured. 

Basille’s mind rushed, frustration growing at her inability to concentrate as she stared down at the book in her lap. It was one of her favorites, a simple story about a man searching for his lost family, but she couldn’t get her mind to settle enough to comprehend the words. 

After Reinne’s introduction, the peace talks had continued, temporary treaties drawn up for the withdrawal of troops and the ownership of land. Copies were made for the Banamorans to bring back to their royalty, and Tyrrel signed each with a flourish. Through it all, Basille had sat, Reinne joining Malak at her back. She heard him introduce himself, and thought that there must have been a smile in Reinne’s voice as she replied, “I’m excited to learn from you.” 

A female warrior, in Saibhadha. 

The idea of it was so foreign, Basille was still trying to wrap her mind around it. Somehow, the most celebrated general in recent memory, fighting for a kingdom whose women were lesser people, had trained his ward. Under the king’s nose, a woman had been given the power to fight. 

Basille just couldn’t believe it. 

Her guards had been dismissed after escorting her to her chambers, and Malak had explained that he must train this new guard, and to please excuse him from his nightly duties in order to prepare Reinne to share them. Basille had granted the permission easily, excited to share her news with her maid.

When she’d told Halle, the woman’s mouth had dropped open, her disbelief matching Basille’s in every measure. “A woman? And the king allowed this?” 

“It seemed to have been the king’s idea,” Basille had said, shaking her head slowly. “To guard _me_ , though. What a joke. I had hoped he would be honestly trying to mend the hate between the kingdoms, but by the gods, he must have some ploy in mind.” 

“When does he not?” Halle had said, bitterness creeping into her tone. 

Later that evening, as Halle had been preparing her bath, she had stopped, staring out the gilded palace windows in wonder. “Is that her, Basille?” 

Her windows were set above a corner of the gardens, but just to the other side of them were the guard’s training grounds. Basille had been able to see two figures, swords in their hands and surrounded by jeering guards. One was clearly Malak, and the other, Reinne. She had stripped out of her formal shirt, sweat shining on her bare shoulders and undershirt clinging to her midriff. Basille was surprised to see her holding her own, abilities so clear that she suddenly realized the men surrounding them were mocking Malak instead of the newcomer. 

“Yes,” she’d said, leaning against the windowsill to watch the fight. “Isn’t she spectacular?” 

“Perhaps the king found more than he bargained for,” Halle had murmured. 

It was late the next morning, now, and Halle had gone to collect the day’s flowers. Basille was left once again alone with her thoughts, and she couldn’t get the image of this phenomenally impossible woman out of her head. 

There was no question that her presence was a joke. The king would never change the kingdom for the sake of even a war, and the Banamoran representatives were truly fools if they thought the induction of one woman into the guard meant anything at all. 

But Reinne herself? To see a woman so sure in her abilities, stepping tall into her place as a supposed symbol of change? Perhaps it could inspire something, even outside the king’s intentions. It was always possible that he had made a mistake, despite thinking that he was clever. 

Basille was pulled from her thoughts by a knock on the door, and she raised her head as she called them in. To her surprise, Malak entered, closely followed by the woman who had been so occupying Basille’s thoughts. 

Slowly, she closed her book. 

“Your highness,” Malak said, bowing deeply and gesturing for Reinne to do the same. “I should like to formally introduce you to your second guard. Queen Basille, this is Reinne. Reinne, meet her royal highness, Queen Basille.” 

As Reinne straightened, Basille laughed, standing quickly and setting her book aside to clasp Reinne’s hands. “Please, Malak, don’t train her to bow. In public and to the king, _yes_ ,” she said severely. “But not in private. You are very impressive, Reinne.” 

The other was a few inches taller, and seemed a little unsure where to look. “Thank you, my lady. I try.” 

“I saw your training! You certainly gave Malak a run for his coin!”

Reinne finally grinned at that, glancing at Malak’s sour face before she nodded. “I was trained well.”

“Yes, you were Karlen’s ward, were you not? He was a great man, and while I cannot understand your loss, know that in some small way, I share it.” 

“I truly appreciate that, your highness.” There was a spark in her eye as she said it, and Basille found herself entranced just a beat too long. 

Trying to cover her lapse, she grinned. “I hope to know you further. How will the two of you be completing your duties?” 

Malak nodded slowly. “We will take turns, your highness, except in moments of great risk or political strength. One or the other of us will always be available, but we will continue to provide constant supervision only when the king specifically commands it. Do you wish for us to change that?” 

“No, that sounds fine to me, Malak.” He was so earnest sometimes, it never ceased to amuse her. “Will you be supervising--” 

The door opened without warning, Halle holding a bundle of roses across her arms as a smile started across her lined face. She paused as she took in the scene before her, nodding formally and beginning to arrange the flowers on Basille’s bedside table. 

Basille shook her head, continuing her question. “Will one of you be staying now? I was surprised the king let me be unguarded for so long with the dignitaries in the palace.”

“Yes, Reinne needs time to unpack her things, so I will be guarding you,” Malak said, then turned to Reinne expectantly. 

“I hope to serve you well, your highness, and to inspire confidence in the changes our kingdom will soon face,” Reinne recited, and Basille laughed. There wasn’t a single doubt in her mind that Malak had coached her to say that, but she inclined her head anyway. 

“I thank you. Please, unpack. I look forward to seeing the changes you bring.” 

After silently checking with Malak, Reinne gave a hesitant half-bow, then excused herself from the room, nearly tripping over the ground before she closed the door behind her. Basille shook her head in amusement, then turned to Malak. “How is she, so far?” 

“Certainly very skilled,” he said quietly. “Determined as hell, your highness.” 

“Good,” she said, then hesitated, glancing back at where Halle was still pretending to arrange her flowers. “Malak, I should like to ask a favor from you.” 

“Yes, my lady?” 

Basille swallowed. “Keep her from the lesser-known side of our king. I want what inspiration she has to stay strong, and I have no wish to have her pay witness to his damages.” 

Behind her, Halle let out a soft exhale, and Malak’s eyes filled with something indecipherable as he nodded. 

“I can do that.” 


	4. Of Roses and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinne hesitated, seeming to sense that something was wrong. Forcing a smile, Halle took her arm and said, “Come. Let us leave them to their walk. My lady?”   
> Raising a brow, Basille turned to fully face her. “Yes?”   
> “For you.”   
> Halle held out the rose in her hands, and with shaking fingers, Basille took it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

The months flew by in a hurry, the Banamorans returning their treaties with the agreement of their king and queen. Both sides had finally finished pulling back their troops, and a great celebration had been thrown in the city surrounding the palace. Basille hadn’t been able to go, of course, but Malak had, and had returned with tales of men who blew fire from their mouths, and the whole town dancing as musicians competed to fill the air with their tunes. 

Tyrrel had been fully occupied with the transition, and thus, Basille’s life had been one of peace. Her birthday came and went without his interference, and Halle brought her a tray of Banamoran chocolate, enjoyed in secret and with much laughter. 

Halle’s friendship and care was a thing Basille treasured above all else. Basille had a real mother, of course, but it’d been years since she’d seen her. She came from a lord’s family, from a city across the country, and there was never much opportunity to visit with the king’s thumb firmly over her freedom. On top of that, the last time she had seen her mother had not been a happy occasion, and the thought of her brought no good feelings. It made her sad, sometimes. Her family was a good one, but… Well, Halle was kind. She knew the details of Basille’s life and made no judgement for it. 

Basille rounded a rosebush, inspecting the blooms and smiling as she caught sight of new ones beginning to blossom. The roses always reminded her of Halle, for the ones she left on her bedside. Since the first time she’d witnessed the king’s atrocities, Halle had always been careful to put roses in Basille’s room. They reminded her that she was never alone, even when it most felt like all kindness had abandoned her. 

Halle reached around her, beginning to de-thorn one of the most perfect roses. Smiling, Basille took a step back, nearly running into Reinne on her way. The other quickly apologized, but Basille waved her off. 

The three of them had found their way out to the gardens, the early spring sunlight that shone down on them through Basille’s windows calling her out among the flowers. She loved the gardens, for their plants, sure, but also for their quiet. The king rarely ventured out here, and though he had broken that peace before, it was a place she felt safely away from him. 

“Do you like flowers, Reinne?” she asked. She’d been trying to get to know the new guard, and while she hadn’t been successful in wrangling much pure information out of her, she’d grown to know Reinne as being thoughtful and kind. 

“Yes, my lady.”

There was one particular incident that always sprung to mind, Reinne fidgeting in the corner of her rooms and glancing out the window nervously. Basille had asked what was wrong, and Reinne had hesitated, then pointed. 

“There’s a dog, your highness. Just a pup, and I think he might be hurt.” 

Basille had rushed to the window, confirming the story and calling one of the door guards to bring the animal up to her rooms. He’d done so, and Reinne had sat very still on the floor, rubbing behind its ears and murmuring softly that it was all going to be okay. 

Not sure what to do, Basille had sat cross-legged beside her, looking down at the dog and wondering what there was to do for its clearly injured back legs and torso. Reinne had thanked her, and she’d shaken her head. “I only wish we could help it.”

“We are, my lady,” Reinne had murmured. “I’ve seen dogs like this, and there is no saving him. But we are giving him comfort and pride in death.”

Halle turned around, holding out the rose for their inspection, and Basille dismissed her memories in order to lean forward, breathing in the scent of the flower and sighing softly. “I can’t wait for the gardens to be alight,” she said. 

“Alight?” Reinne asked, taking Basille’s place as she pulled back. 

“With all of the colors!” Basille grinned between the two of them. “When spring really sets in, the garden will fill with blooms. Which are your favorite?” 

Reinne shrugged, glancing at Halle for help. Halle gave her none, holding the flower safely between her hands and grinning at their conversation. “I like those blue ones,” Reinne finally said, pointing at a flowerbed not far from where they stood. 

“Would you like some for your room?” Basille was determined to open her up, and knew she was slowly succeeding. Reinne was quiet, but she was no longer the stoic stranger she had once been. 

“I’m okay, your highness. But thank you.” 

Halle blew out a heavy exhale, drawing their attention. She was looking at something over Basille’s shoulder, and with some fear at her expression, Basille followed her gaze. 

There was a contingent of guards, trekking slowly after their king as he pretended to look at the flowers he passed. Basille’s heart dropped, but she forced a smile. She should have known her peace wouldn’t last much longer. “Oh.” She said it lightly, for Reinne’s benefit. “Please, I don’t think there’s anyone who thinks he’s here by chance! We’d best not disturb the quiet, I think.” 

“My lady?” Reinne asked, and Halle’s eyes grew sad. 

“The quiet of the gardens, Reinne,” Basille forced a laugh. “The king is looking for me. I suppose we should go to meet him.” 

She knew Reinne wasn’t stupid or easily fooled, but all she could hope was that the other might not make the connections that Basille wanted to hide. It was strange enough, for a queen to sleep in her own rooms far removed from that of her king, and stranger still that he should so rarely acknowledge her, but Basille preferred it that way. He’d long since figured out that the happier he could make her, the more compliant she would be when he required her services. 

Ignoring Halle’s expression, Basille started across the grounds, curtsying as the king finally deigned to look at her. A smile grew across his face, the same one that had so enchanted her when they’d been married. “My queen. Will you not accompany me?” 

“Of course,” she said, holding out her arm. He looped his elbows through hers, turning and beginning to lead her towards the palace. When Reinne and Halle began to trail after them, Basille smiled back over her shoulder. “I’m sure the king’s guardsmen can watch over me. Reinne, why don’t you head back to the rooms?”

Reinne hesitated, seeming to sense that something was wrong. Forcing a smile, Halle took her arm and said, “Come. Let us leave them to their walk. My lady?” 

Raising a brow, Basille turned to fully face her. “Yes?” 

“For you.” 

Halle held out the rose in her hands, and with shaking fingers, Basille took it. She smiled, thanking Halle quickly before the other half-dragged Reinne back to the palace. Basille and the king followed more slowly, arm in arm and surrounded by his guards. They were silent for a long time before the king asked, “Would you accompany me to my rooms?” 

God, she hated him. It had taken Halle’s words for her to realize it, years ago now, but she truly hated this man. That he would make her agree to do a thing that he knew scared her beyond words was absolutely despicable. 

“If I must,” she said, forcing a lilt of humor into the words. 

They conversated about nothing important as they walked, more simpering pleasantries than an actual conversation, but they were good at this after so long. To any casual observer, they seemed to be husband and wife, a king and his queen, merely making small talk as they spent rare moments together. 

As they reached the door to his rooms, one of the guards ducked inside, checking for intruders before the king and queen could walk in. As Tyrrel dismissed his guards, Basille let go of his arm, walking further into the room and beginning to pull the pearls from her hair. She gripped onto the flower Halle had given her as she set the jewelry on the table, letting her hair fall to drape lightly over her shoulders. 

Sure enough, as soon as the door was closed and they were alone, the king’s demeanor changed. “I’ve had enough of these simple royal pleasantries to last me a goddamn _lifetime_ ,” he growled, and she heard him advance across the room. “Do your duty, Basille, why are you wasting time with your fucking--give me that--” 

He tore the flower from her grip, tossing it onto the table and seizing her by the shoulders. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers, hand coming up to grab the back of her head as she tried to pull away. After a long few seconds, he finally let her go, leaving her standing in disgust as he began ridding himself of his shirt. 

“If you wish to blow off steam, Tyrrel--”

“Oh, shut up,” he said. “If I wished to hear your voice, I would have invited you to my court. Why are you just standing there?” 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said quietly, keeping her chin raised as he turned to look at her in annoyance. 

“I mean take your fucking dress off. Unless, of course, you have a protest?” She stayed absolutely still, and he dropped his shirt to the floor, crossing to her in a few steps and wrapping his fingers under her chin. He squeezed, and her eyes watered in pain. “No? Then prepare yourself, you simpleminded fool.” 

“I can’t.” 

He slapped her across the face with his free hand, making her cry out and stumble in his hold. “This is your _duty_ , Basille. You have no right to refuse me. Not now, not ever. I thought you understood that.”

“My dress,” she forced out. “I can’t get it off by myself.” 

Huffing in frustration, he let go of her chin, rounding her still figure and beginning to work at the ties at her back. “This is why I come to you in your own rooms,” he grumbled, and she touched lightly at her stinging cheek. The one thing she could find some joy in was the thought of the king, forced to perform a servant’s work before he could hurt her. This dress was not a complicated one, and Basille likely could have figured it out herself, but he would have no way of knowing that. It was a small act of rebellion, but a rebellion nonetheless, and she held it close to her heart as the dress loosened around her shoulders. 

With a painful yank, he finally rid her of the clothing, shoving her in the direction of his bed and kicking the dress towards the table. “Go, Basille.” 

Still in her chemise, Basille glanced back, taking in the sight of the rose that still sat on the table. It bloomed pink against the dark wood, the leaves brushing down and a single thorn Halle had missed that she suddenly noticed near the top. She was not alone in this, she knew. It didn’t help much, but what comfort it did bring was invaluable as the king grabbed a handful of her hair, throwing her to his bed and making her gasp in pain. She had to hold on to that. 

Basille was not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Fade-to-black non-con, abuse, fear, intimidation, powerlessness.


	5. Chocolate Scones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A woman who preferred the company of other women was a rare thing, in a kingdom where its discovery could lead to her execution, but when you shared a single bed in a broom closet of a room with a man with no sense of privacy, it was a difficult thing to forget. Especially since Malak seemed to think he was the gods’ gift to womankind.

Reinne watched as, for about the thousandth time, Halle straightened the queen’s sheets. She would unpend the top few layers, firmly tucking them into place one at a time before arranging the pillows at the head. Then she would leave them, busy herself with another task for a few moments before she would return, repeating the whole process despite there being no visible wrinkles that Reinne could see. 

Any fool could see the pain in her eyes, and Reinne was not any fool. 

“Halle,” she finally said, and the other jumped. Reinne didn’t know her well, but in serving Basille, they spent a lot of time together. Most of it was silent, and as the older woman turned back to look at her, Reinne half-wished she had left it that way. “What’s wrong?” 

Hesitating, Halle looked down at the perfect bed. “I think it would be best not to say,” she finally murmured. 

“I know the king isn’t a good man,” Reinne said quietly. “I say that not to speak treason, but to recognize a fact. The queen looked terrified, as much as she was trying to pretend she was fine.” She could still see the other’s eyes in her mind, reassuring her that it was okay to leave even as her expression screamed that leaving was the same as abandonment. 

Halle sighed, the sound filled with pain that Reinne had rarely seen in her time here. “The months you’ve been with us have been very unusual, Reinne. The king has been preoccupied, and on his best behavior in front of the dignitaries. But you’re right. He is not a good man.” 

“Is there anything we could do?” Reinne asked, and Halle immediately shook her head. 

“Be of comfort. Follow his commands to the letter, and give him no reason to remove you. Respect Basille’s wishes.” 

“Does…” Reinne hesitated, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer. “Does he hurt her?” 

Halle said nothing for a moment, then turned to face her. “It would be his right, if he did. He is the king, and she is his queen. You must not argue with it.” 

It wasn’t easy to see, but Reinne noticed a spark in the other’s eyes, the anger hidden there contradicting the words coming out of her mouth. Halle was a powerful woman, and it didn’t take much time at all to see the way she cared for the queen. Reinne and Basille were very similar in age, she knew, and the queen was not a child. But she thought Halle might care for her as one. 

“Okay,” she said, adjusting herself in her seat. The guard’s chair sat in the corner of the room, a surprisingly uncomfortable thing for how ornately decorated it was. “What should I do, when she returns to her rooms?” 

Leaning back against a bedpost, Halle took a deep breath. “Excuse yourself, and leave her be.”

~~~

“Reinne!” 

She jumped, looking back over her shoulder to see Malak waving her down. They were in the town, both having needed to run errands, and since Basille had dismissed them both for the day, they had decided to come together. It wasn’t a market day, so the streets were as quiet as they could be, and they’d found their way to a shoemaker’s shop, then to a bakery, and Reinne had taken one look at the scones before she was ordering a bagful, intending to bring the chocolate ones back with her to the palace. 

The queen loved them, she knew, and Reinne liked the expression on the other’s face whenever Halle would bring them in the mornings. The palace’s rendition, however, was a pitiful imitation of the pure delight this bakery made, and she had found herself excited at the thought of introducing the queen to what she was missing. 

It’d been nearly two months since her discussion with Halle, and she was growing more and more wary of the king. He had done nothing outright, but would sometimes summon Basille, or Reinne would pass him speaking to her in the halls. She always looked scared, but she always hid it. Especially around Reinne. 

She hoped she had done nothing to make the other think she had to be shamed before her. Reinne had experienced her fair share of harassment from men, soldiers who thought they could touch her when her father’s back was turned, and she was well aware that most women in Saibhadha had not been given the opportunity to defend themselves as Reinne had. She didn’t know what exactly the king had done, but knew that Basille didn’t want her to know. She tried to respect that. 

“What do you want?” she asked Malak, turning to see him staring at a tray of honey-soaked rolls, still steaming from the oven. As much as she liked to pretend she didn’t, she liked the strange man. He was gangly as hell, and despite being older than her by a few years, reminded her of the teenage boys she would wreak havoc with as a child. 

“I want these,” he said, nodding past the glass. 

She stared at him, unamused. “You’re a grown-ass man, buy them.” 

“But you already bought all those scones! It’d be so much easier if you just paid for everything at once!” 

“I’m not paying for your--thank you,” she said, taking her bag of pastries from the baker, who was grinning at her knowingly. She had been a customer of this bakery for a long time, and had been close friends with the baker’s daughter when they were both children. His daughter was married now, and lived far from King’s City, but the man was kind, and she had no doubt that when she opened her bag, there would be an extra treat or two tucked away inside. Pulling out her coinpurse, she began counting out the money to pay him as she finished speaking to Malak. “Buy your own, or don’t buy them at all, you overgrown child.” 

“But _Reinne_ …” 

“No. Now, I need to pick up my shirts from the tailor’s,” she said as she finished paying the baker and turned to her companion. “Are you going to whine here, or would you like to go with me?” 

He scrunched his nose. “Is it a woman’s tailor?” 

“It’s just a tailor.” 

“Fine. Give me a moment,” he huffed, counting out his own coins and quickly exchanging them for one of the rolls. 

Reinne waved goodbye to the baker as they left, watching in disgust as Malak tore into his treat. “Must you act like a wild animal?” 

“Yes,” he said, and she rolled her eyes. Earning his respect had been an endeavor, especially after she had embarrassed him so deeply on her first day. He’d sulked about her win in front of the other soldiers for almost a month, then had abruptly changed face to thinking she was lacking in skill. She’d had to take him back to the training grounds, let him win once or twice then pound him into the ground the moment he let his head swell too big. 

None too happy about it, he’d grown to like her since then, and despite his fragile pride, she liked him too. He was a good man, no matter his faults. 

She huffed as he threw an arm over her shoulders, glancing to one side to see him grinning at her. “Is the roll good?” she asked. 

“You are very beautiful,” he said, and she scoffed, shrugging him off violently and speeding up her walk. She knew he was joking, but he was pressing buttons, and he knew it. 

A woman who preferred the company of other women was a rare thing, in a kingdom where its discovery could lead to her execution, but when you shared a single bed in a broom closet of a room with a man with no sense of privacy, it was a difficult thing to forget. Especially since Malak seemed to think he was the gods’ gift to womankind. 

She didn’t think he _knew,_ exactly, but she’d also been surprised when he responded to rejected advances with nothing more than shrugging acceptance. Malak had seemed the sort of man to let failed romance ruin a friendship, but he’d barely seemed to think twice about it, all three times he’d tried. 

She supposed it could be much worse, but she might actually kill him if there was a fourth.

Laughing, he caught up with her again, finishing his food noisily and gesturing up at the sky. “It looks like it might rain,” he commented, and she looked up. 

The sky was beginning to gray, he was right. Reinne frowned in annoyance. “It had better not until we get back to the palace,” she said. “I don’t much like the rain.” 

“Why not?” he asked, and she sighed. 

“Curly hair. It frizzes into a ball atop my head. Quite inconvenient.” 

“Oh, truly,” he said, tossing his pin-straight hair over his shoulder. “I’m never able to stand it.” 

Reinne rolled her eyes, but she smiled as they walked. The trip into the tailor’s was much quicker than she had expected, but sure enough, as they came out of the shop, drops of water began to fall from the sky. Malak and Reinne looked at each other. 

“Run for it?” he asked. 

“Run for it.” 

When they arrived at the palace, the rain was pouring from the sky, water dripping from her eyelashes and the ends of her hair. She laughed as they got under cover, waving to the bridge guards, and Malak shook his head like a dog. Out of breath, they both leaned against the wall, Reinne still laughing under her breath as she checked inside her pastry bag. By some miracle, the treats were untouched, and she grinned. 

“Malak, can you take these to our room?” she asked, holding up the shirts. At his questioning glance, she gestured to the scones. “I need to take these to the queen.” 

He nodded, grinning as she tossed the soaked shirts at his equally wet face. 

Reinne made her way quickly to the queen’s rooms, jogging up the twisting staircase that led to the door and tossing a few of the non-chocolate scones to the very bored-looking door guards. “She in there?” Reinne asked, and one of them nodded. 

“Halle went in about an hour ago, but nobody else is with the queen,” he said, turning over the scone he’d caught and narrowing his eyes at the fruit inside. “What is this?”

“Cranberry, I think,” she said. “It’s from Papa Gilerdo’s.” 

The men hummed in appreciation, many of them having grown up in King’s City and being very familiar with the bakery. Grinning, she nodded at their thanks, then ducked quietly through the door. 

She slowed as she was greeted with the sound of sobbing, proceeding silently through the room until she reached the open doorway to the queen’s bathing room. Basille and Halle sat inside, Basille’s head on her lap. Halle was stroking the queen’s hair, tears in her eyes as Basille sobbed into her skirt. 

“I don’t want this again,” Basille was saying, words muffled past her heaving breaths. “This can’t be what it is, Halle, I-I… I don’t want Damien to--” 

Halle shushed her gently, neither of them noticing Reinne as she watched them. Damien? That was the castle healer, wasn’t it? He seemed like a fine man to Reinne, working tirelessly to help even the servants when they needed him, not charging a penny for his services. Reinne had had to seek his help more than once when training sessions with Malak grew too intense. 

“We can’t assume anything, Basille,” Halle murmured. “It could just be something in your food, or a normal bout of sickness.” 

“It feels different.”

“Basille, it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be alright.” Halle ducked her head, sounding like she was trying to convince even herself and rocking back and forth like she was trying to soothe a child to sleep. “Even if the worst should happen, you will survive it. You’re the strongest person I have ever met.” 

“I’m terrified. I shouldn’t be--”

“Your highness,” Reinne said quietly, firmly deciding that this was not a conversation she was meant to be hearing, and that she should not betray the queen’s trust by continuing to listen. 

Basille jumped, sitting up quickly and practically falling onto her backside as she stared up at Reinne in surprise. “How long have you--” 

“Just a moment. Not long enough to know why you’re upset, but enough to be glad I brought these,” she said, holding up her bag. “Chocolate scones, from the best baker in King’s City. Would you like one?” 

She didn’t miss the look of grateful sadness in Halle’s eyes as Basille smiled through her tears. “Are these the ones you told me about? That the palace kitchens tried to copy?” 

“Yes, your majesty.” Reinne hesitated, then held out a hand, helping the other to her feet before reaching for Halle. The woman hesitated, then turned back, picking up the chamber pot and nodding to Basille.

“Will you be alright with Reinne, for a moment? I’d like to clean this out now so that I can stay with you tonight.” 

Basille nodded, and as Halle left, Reinne quietly asked, “Are you sick, my lady?” 

“Possibly,” was all the other said about it, then held out a hand for the bag. Reinne gave it to her, and Basille sat on her bed. “Why are you wet?” Suddenly, Reinne noticed that the other was clothed only in her chemise, frowned as she realised how cold she must be. 

“It’s raining,” she explained as the other pulled out one of the treats, inhaling what was left of the scent and taking a delicate bite. Reinne retrieved one of the extra blankets from the armoir as Basille sighed in contentment. Carefully, she wrapped it around the queen’s shoulders, watching as the other relaxed. 

“I was afraid I would be too sick to eat it,” Basille said happily, reaching out to grasp Reinne’s hand in thanks. “But this is _so_ good. I can’t imagine how delicious they must be warm!” 

“Perhaps I will take you with me, next time,” Reinne murmured, sitting as Basille patted the mattress next to her. “The cinnamon ones are worth every moment of the trip, but he was out of them today.” 

Basille laughed, and Reinne’s heart warmed in relief. There was no real way to help this poor woman, but she didn’t want to stop searching for the small things. 

Halle was right. The queen truly was the strongest person Reinne had ever met.


	6. Hope and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halle had brought this up before, the idea of running from the palace. It had only ever been a dream, an impossibility that not even Halle could come up with a solid plan for. Despite herself, Basille felt hope blossom in her chest at the expression on Halle’s face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

It took Basille a long time to fall asleep, tossing and turning as thoughts whirled through her head. She knew there was nothing she could do, no action she could take no matter what happened, but she just couldn’t make herself accept that. 

She’d been sick for days. Some foods were okay, and some made her stomach roil, with no apparent distinction between the two. The only thing she’d been able to stomach in the past two days had been soup and the scones Reinne had brought. She’d been right, they were delicious. 

But they had confirmed something horrific inside Basille’s mind. There had been two times in her life that she’d been sick at everything but chocolate. Only two times. 

Gods, she couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t sit here, knowing what was going to happen and unable to do a damn thing to stop it. 

She’d barely slipped off to sleep, it seemed, before she was being shaken awake, momentary fear arcing through her before she saw that it was Halle who was kneeling on the edge of her bed. 

“Basille,” she whispered, then gestured behind her. “I’ve brought someone who might help.” 

Slowly, Basille sat up, still blinking sleep out of her eyes as she took in the sight of a round, unfamiliar woman, standing just behind Halle and unsuccessfully trying to wipe the pity out of her eyes. “Who…” 

“I’m from Banamore, your highness,” the woman explained. “No one in your palace knows me, but I was a friend of Halle’s sister. My name is Martha.” 

Basille blinked, looking to Halle for an explanation. 

“Martha is a medicine woman,” Halle explained, and Basille’s eyes flew wide in understanding. She looked towards the doors quickly, but Basille answered her question before she could even ask it. “We told the guards we were here to clean up your bathing room. They know you’ve been sick, so it didn’t take that much convincing.” 

“I’m not _that_ sick,” Basille protested, and Halle smiled. 

“Are you okay with this?” she asked. “It seemed best to know for sure before we take any drastic steps.”

Basille was unsure what drastic steps could possibly be taken, but she nodded anyway, looking up to Martha in askance. “I know I am the queen, but please treat me as a patient. This knowledge is far more important than my comfort. What do you need me to do?” 

Martha agreed easily, but the examination passed without pain. Blinking back tears, Basille pushed away the thought of other examinations she’d had for this, made to cry out in pain by the court physician. Damien was a weasel of a man, a coward who tried to pay for his sins by helping those he had never hurt in the first place. She didn’t like him, never had, but she hated the thought that he was hurting her on purpose. 

It took only a few moments, then Martha sat up straight, gesturing for Basille to relax and seeming to struggle for words. “My lady, it’s true. You are with child.” 

Tears welled up in Basille’s eyes. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all, but her grief still almost overwhelmed her to hear the words. “Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely. How long has it been since your last bleeding?” 

“Seven weeks,” Basille said faintly. 

“Then there is no doubt in my mind. Halle told me of your symptoms, and I was sure even before I came into the room.” She hesitated, glancing at Halle quickly before she returned her gaze to Basille. “If you would like, my lady, I can recommend a medicine to make it not so.” 

For a long, horrible moment, Basille considered it. 

“No,” she finally said. Her pain didn’t lie with the child. If it was a boy…

Halle spoke quietly to Martha as Basille’s mind rushed. Could she take that chance again? Was she willing to bet herself on it? Before she could change her mind, Martha clasped her hand, and Halle ducked into Basille’s bathing room, re-emerging with her chamber pot as Martha closed her eyes and murmured a short prayer. 

“By the lady of the skies, I bless you, Basille.” 

Then Martha took the pot, murmuring one more goodbye as she left the room. Halle sat heavily on Basille’s bed, and all that Basille could think to say was, “Lady of the skies?” 

“I don’t know,” Halle said quietly. “The Banamorans have different gods than ours. She won’t tell anyone, Basille. I’m sorry I didn’t ask your permission to tell her your fears, but she is leaving tomorrow morning, and I wanted you to--” 

“It’s okay,” she said quietly, then looked down at her hands. “Halle, what am I going to do?” 

“Escape.” 

“What?!” Basille had to bite back her voice, glancing up at the door to make sure no guards were going to come bursting through. “Halle, I can’t do that. The king hardly lets me leave the palace grounds. He’d search for me, and kill anyone who sheltered me. I can’t bring that risk to people.” 

Halle had brought this up before, the idea of running from the palace. It had only ever been a dream, an impossibility that not even Halle could come up with a solid plan for. Despite herself, Basille felt hope blossom in her chest at the expression on Halle’s face. 

“The dignitaries of Banamore would bear no such risk.” 

~~~

In the weeks they had waited, Basille had barely been able to keep her wits about her. The night that Martha had come, there had been no such ambassadors in the palace, so she and Halle had had plenty of time to plan. 

When the ambassadors came, Basille must act normally. She would stick to her usual routine, and would make no attempt to contact the Banamorans. Largely, she was left out of the king’s councils, so unless she was summoned, she was to stay in her rooms and draw no attention to herself at all. 

So much of this plan depended on Halle. 

A servant, passing silently through the corridors, held no suspicion. A servant, bringing water to the ambassadors, would not be seen as a strange event. And once she was there, then she could tell them. 

Banamore was a proud kingdom. Basille knew they had doubts about their alliance with Saibhadha already, not wishing to be associated with their broken kingdom. There was a very high chance they would refuse to support a king who was harming his queen. And if they made that decision, Halle had thought _maybe_ , just maybe, the ambassadors would insist on taking Basille with them as they left. 

If Basille agreed to go, what could the king’s soldiers possibly do? Few of them knew of her plight, and upon finding out the risks, she was sure they would let her go. And what was the king without his army? 

Her heart had been pounding since the night before, when Reinne had brought with her the news that the ambassadors had arrived. Just as they’d planned, she and Halle had acted quite normally, Halle bidding her goodnight with a clasp of her hand. 

Basille wasn’t sure if she had done it right then, or if she was waiting until this morning, but Reinne had stayed the night, dozing silently in her chair when Basille awoke the next morning. Her maids had come to arrange her hair and clothes, and she was sitting at her desk, peering out the window at the garden as she waited for Halle to return with news. 

Finally, the door opened, and she spun around with excitement she couldn’t repress, then came to an abrupt stop at the sight of Malak stepping through the doorway. 

“What are you--” Reinne started to ask, but Malak silenced her with a gesture, and Basille felt the blood drain from her face as he crossed the room, kneeling to take her hand in a gesture more informal than she had ever had him direct to her. 

“What?” she asked, voice suddenly dry. Behind Malak, she saw Reinne rise to her feet, the same worry she could feel tightening her chest appearing on the other’s face. 

“Your highness,” Malak murmured, and she heard his voice break. “The wall guards caught me in the hall. They found your friend in the early hours of the morning.” 

Basille’s throat constricted, and she swallowed. “They… found Halle?” 

Slowly, Malak nodded. “Yes, my lady. Her body was found. I’m so sorry, but she is dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Major Character Death, Unwanted Pregnancy (unconnected to the mcd)


	7. Display of Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malak’s face was carefully blank, staring somewhere into the middle distance. It was an expression she had seen on him more often than she cared to remember. Reinne, though, was staring directly into Basille’s eyes, her expression one of abject horror. Then, she glanced up, seeming to realize the king was looking at her, and made a poor attempt to school her face into one of indifference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS

“No,” Basille said, in a voice that was not her own. “No, she can’t be.” 

She vaguely saw Reinne sinking back into her chair, grief flashing across her face. Basille pulled back her hand, but Malak shook his head. “I’m so sorry. But I went to see for myself. It’s her, and she’s gone. I have asked the king to excuse you from your--”

The king.

Basille gathered her skirts around her as she stood, anger beginning to pound hot and hard through her head alongside her grief. She kept her face tightly controlled as she gestured for her guards to stand, shoulders ramrod straight. Malak was watching her, looking as though he wasn’t sure if he should stop her from whatever she was about to do. She could see Reinne out of the corner of her eye, confusion evident in her stance, but ignored them both, choosing instead to make her way out of her rooms, sweeping down the halls on her way to the object of her anger. 

She barely noticed the servants moving out of her way, ignored the surprise on their faces at the quiet power the queen was exhibiting. It had been a long time since they had seen her do more than sit quietly at the king’s side and wander the palace gardens. 

Basille knew how stupid this was. She just didn’t care. 

She burst through the doors of the throne room, and the advisors within went quiet. Behind her, the door was closed, and she felt more than heard her guards coming up to stand at her shoulders. The king looked up in surprise. “Basille, this is a private--”

“How _dare_ you!” she spat, clenching her fists in her dress as she seethed. Just the sight of his face, smoothed in false innocence, made her want to throw something. “How could you do this? How could you kill her?”

He hummed, and for a split second, she saw the smugness in his eyes. Then it was covered by pity. “Oh, I must have forgotten to inform you. I am very sorry for your loss, but your servant experienced an accident earlier tonight.”

“An _accident?_ ” Basille growled. 

“Yes, I’m afraid so. Fell from a palace window as she was cleaning it. I’ll be sure to replace her at my soonest convenience, my dear, but unfortunately--”

“You bastard!” her heart was pounding, and despite her anger, she felt tears threatening to burst from her. He had killed her, he had killed her only friend, and there was no reason to pretend he hadn’t. She stepped forward, advancing towards him as she fought back her whirling emotions. There was no one to stop him, no one to punish him, and there was no reason at all for him to lie into her face. No reason except for his own sick satisfaction. “You _coward_ , you murdering, broken--”

Pain exploded across her face, and she stumbled back from the king, tripping backwards over her own feet and threatening to fall. She felt a pair of arms suddenly thrown around her from behind, straightening her up, and looked back to see three copies of Reinne letting go of her, the look on her face one of shocked anger. Malak grabbed Reinne by the arm, and Blue felt her chin seized, yanking her back around to look into the King’s face. The wrenching motion made her vision swim again, and she closed her eyes to steady herself. 

“Would you care to repeat that?” he asked, his voice cold. 

Before she could stop herself, she whispered, “Murderer.”

She almost couldn’t feel it as he slapped her again, but the sound of it echoed through the room. It was loud, accompanied by a sick sort of thud that was making her dizzy. 

“Repeat yourself.” 

“You…” she thought she might be sick, raising a shaky hand to her own face, feeling the tender spot beginning to bloom across her face. “You knew. You knew what she was trying to do, and you…” The hand gripping her chin tightened, and she finally cried out in pain. 

“I don’t think that you understand the position you are in,” the king spat, grabbing her by the shoulder and turning her head to look behind her. “Do you see your guards?” 

Malak’s face was carefully blank, staring somewhere into the middle distance. It was an expression she had seen on him more often than she cared to remember. Reinne, though, was staring directly into Basille’s eyes, her expression one of abject horror. Then, she glanced up, seeming to realize the king was looking at her, and made a poor attempt to school her face into one of indifference. Malak’s hand was locked around her upper arm so tightly that Basille could see indents into Reinne’s skin, and felt bad, for a moment, that it would probably bruise. 

The king laughed into her ear, the sound low and threatening. “What are their jobs, my queen?” She didn’t answer for a moment, confused by the question, and by Malak suddenly seeming to come to life, anger burning behind his eyes before he looked down to the ground. Tyrrel shook her, once. “What are your guards here to do, Basille?” 

It took her a moment, to realize the answer he was looking for. When she spoke, her voice was strained. “Protect me.”

Reinne jerked in place, and Malak’s hand tightened on her arm. 

“Exactly,” King Tyrrel murmured, the smug tone of his voice making her want to cry. The hand on her shoulder disappeared, and she felt him grab a handful of her hair, pulling harshly so that she was trapped against his chest, the hand on her chin dropping to wrap around her neck. “Do me a favor, Basille, and tell them what it is you’re accusing me of.” 

“You…” she started, choked to a stop by the tightening hand around her throat. Wheezing, she reached up, scrabbling ineffectually at his arm for a moment before his grip loosened. She was surprised, for a moment, to see tears beginning to gather in Reinne’s eyes. 

“I _what_?” 

He was right. That was the thing, and it killed her. She had no power here, and they both knew it. It didn’t matter that she was the queen, that she was guarded, that she was…no, she was alone. 

Her anger faded, and her grief flew up to replace it.

“An accident,” she whispered, and the hand dropped from her throat, his grip on her hair loosening. “Halle died in an accident. She was a… a good friend of mine, my king. May I request that she be honored by a lady’s funeral?” 

He laughed, quietly enough that she was sure none of his advisors could hear. 

“Anything for you, my dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Abuse, abuse of power, the king sucks so much, mcd grief


	8. Some Kind of Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was by unspoken rule that they had decided to guard her like this, constantly trading off shifts so that Basille was never left alone. They used the excuse of the Banamoran dignitaries in the palace when the door guards had asked, but… Well. She may be the queen, and them only her guards, but they wanted her to be safe, and Reinne knew that she didn’t want Basille to feel abandoned. 

Basille had been nearly silent through the funeral. It had been attended by the court, with Halle’s body interred into stone alongside the ancestors of Saibhadha. It was a great honor, but it felt like a sick joke to Reinne. She’d stood at the queen’s side through it all, restrained herself from doing or saying anything through the ceremony. Even as the king gave a speech full of thinly-veiled threats that made the tears run faster down Basille’s face. 

No one would tell her why Halle had died, but she got the feeling Basille thought it was her fault. Reinne was surprised to feel pain hit her from the thought, the very idea of Basille’s grief making her chest ache. 

She couldn’t believe she hadn’t known how bad things were. That the king would do that to his wife, in front of all his advisors and guards, and not a single person had batted an eye. That he had looked straight at them, taunted them with the idea of stopping him. 

Reinne hadn’t known, when she’d come to the palace, that the idea of protecting the queen was so impossible. She almost wished she’d never found out. 

When the funeral was over, Basille had retired to her chambers, again refusing to speak. Reinne and Malak had exchanged a glance, and eventually, Malak had been the one to follow her inside. 

The night had not brought sleep for Reinne. Instead, she had watched as the sun rose, dressing quickly and hurrying out to town to buy more of the scones that had made Basille so happy. 

Now, she stood before her bedroom door, leather armor strapped tightly to her body and booted feet shifting in place before she finally raised her hand to knock. 

Malak opened the door on the first hit, shushing her quickly and ushering her into the room. “She’s still asleep,” he explained in a whisper, nodding quickly to the door guards before closing the door behind them. 

“How late was she up?” 

“I’m not sure,” he said. “She was up and about until at least midnight, and tossed and turned for a while before she finally went still. Reinne, she still hasn’t spoken. Do you think she’ll…” 

His worry was the same as Reinne’s. The queen was fragile, and Halle had seemed to be much of what had been holding her together. They were both afraid that without her, Basille wouldn’t be able to continue as she had. 

“I hope not,” was all she said, then she flapped a hand at him, still whispering as she insisted, “Now go sleep. I’ll stay with her until you come back.” 

It was by unspoken rule that they had decided to guard her like this, constantly trading off shifts so that Basille was never left alone. They used the excuse of the Banamoran dignitaries in the palace when the door guards had asked, but… Well. She may be the queen, and them only her guards, but they wanted her to be safe, and Reinne knew that she didn’t want Basille to feel abandoned. 

Malak nodded tiredly, finally leaving the room after Reinne handed him one of her scones and ushered him to get some sleep. 

Gingerly, Reinne took her seat, watching the slow rise and fall of the queen’s breathing as she crossed her legs and pulled out a pastry for herself. 

~~~

When Basille finally woke, Reinne didn’t notice at first. She was staring out the window, admiring the glow of the sun against the panes, and when she finally looked back towards the bed, Basille’s eyes were open, looking at her blankly. 

“Your highness,” Reinne murmured, standing quickly and bringing the bag with her. 

Basille didn’t immediately respond, following Reinne’s earlier gaze to the sky before she looked back towards her. “Are those scones?” she asked, voice raspy with dried tears. 

“Yes,” Reinne said, opening the bag and holding it out. “I got them this morning.” 

Slowly, Basille sat up, clutching at the blankets as she took one of the pastries. Numbly, she took a bite, closing her eyes as she chewed it. “Reinne?” 

“Yes?” 

“How do you get them? Are you using your own pay?” 

“Yes, my lady,” Reinne admitted. “But there’s not much to use it for while I’m living in the palace. I don’t mind.” 

Basille fingered at the surface of her scone, swallowing her bite. “You must remind me to repay you.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” 

Letting out a short laugh, Basille finally met her eyes. “I think it is. You shall have my money.” 

Reinne gave her a small smile. “I suppose I shall have to take it, then.”

“You shall.” 

As Basille took another bite, Reinne leaned against the bedpost, setting the bag on the blankets and considering the other. “I know it would be stupid to ask if you’re alright, your highness, but are you… better? Better than you were?” 

“I finally cried,” Basille murmured. “Not much, but a little. Damien said that sadness is much better than numbness.” 

“And are you sad, rather than numb?” 

“It’s not often I am happy, Reinne,” she said with finality, but took another bite of the scone, seeming to consider the question in seriousness. “But yes. I think it… I’m beginning to believe it. I don’t expect her to walk suddenly through that door, to save me or…” she broke off, shoving the rest of the scone into her mouth and chewing in apparent frustration. 

Reinne watched her in amazement, impressed despite herself by the other’s ability to keep from choking as she swallowed the massive bite. Basille seemed to notice her gaze, cheeks reddening as she finished swallowing. 

Then, quietly, she asked, “Are there more?”


	9. Powerless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re unhappy?”   
> Before she could stop them, tears welled up in her eyes, and Basille laughed self-deprecatingly. “Oh, very much so, Reinne. Very much so.” She reached up, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes and biting back a sob. Whether the emotion came from fear, relief, or pure, devastating sadness, she had no idea. So much had happened, so very fast in those last few months. She’d had so much pain, and she wanted, more than anything, for it to stop. Arms wrapped around her, squeezing tightly, and Basille let herself collapse into her guard’s hold, leaning into her for support as the waves of emotion finally broke free. She didn’t question for more than a moment why on earth Reinne had decided to hold her, choosing instead to appreciate the all too rare moment of not feeling as though she was completely alone in this hell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot that doesn't make sense about this chapter but it's only the second one I ever wrote for Reinne if that counts as an excuse lmfao.

Basille cursed, shaking her pricked finger and setting her sewing aside so that she could look at the spot of blood growing from it. The stinging pain made her wince, and she swore again, louder, before standing and crossing the room to plunge her hand into her water basin. 

“Are you okay, your majesty?” 

She turned to see Reinne half-standing from her chair, looking at her in concern. She’d almost forgotten she was there, a silent presence as always. Reinne had a talent for fading into the background, an underappreciated skill for a personal guard, but Basille was still surprised, for a moment, that she had forgotten she was there. Reinne had a presence about her that Basille admired. Strength, she supposed, that she envied. It was unusual for Reinne to fade into the background of her mind whether she was the one guarding her or not. 

“Yes, don’t worry,” she said, laughing lightly as she looked at her finger again. “I just pricked my finger. It surprised me, is all.” 

Reinne looked unconvinced, setting her sword aside to cross the room, holding out a hand. Snorting, Basille let her take her own, turning it over to investigate the prick. “Honestly, Reinne, you can’t even see--” 

The door burst open, and Reinne jumped back, dropping her hand. Basille took no offense from it, turning to face the king with annoyance. “Your highness, I thank you deeply for knocking.” 

In the two months since Halle’s death, she’d felt herself growing bolder. She’d been surprised by how much he’d let her get away with, wondered if she could have done this from the beginning. There was nothing left for him to take from her, now, and pushing the limits of his patience could hurt no one but herself. He was going to hurt her anyway, she’d realized, so she might as well hold some dignity while it happened.

“Cut the bullshit,” he snapped, and she raised a brow, surprised until she saw Damien standing behind him. 

“This is unnecessary,” she said, and felt more than saw Reinne stepping back into her corner and re-belting her sword to her waist. 

“It’s plenty necessary. I need to know the moment you’re with child.” Tyrrel wasn’t even looking at her, just gesturing for Damien to do his work. “This isn’t a new routine, Basille, and I don’t know why you insist on protesting it. Every six months, like clockwork. You could have better prepared yourself if you had been paying attention.” 

She swallowed as Damien crossed the room to her. His eyes were downcast, but she was far past the point of feeling pity for the man. “I am telling you that this is unnecessary.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’m already aware of my pregnancy, your highness.” 

The room went silent, and Basille saw Reinne’s hand drop to the hilt of her sword. Foolish, honestly. What did she think she was going to do? 

“And how is that?” Tyrrel growled. 

She lifted her chin. Fear was nothing new to her, and a slap in the face was temporary. He certainly wouldn’t do more than that, now that he knew. “Halle brought a healer into the castle to check for me when my bleeding was late. She informed us that I was with child.” 

The anger in his eyes inspired a little more fear, and she had to fight to keep her head up. “When were you planning on telling me?” 

“I think you’re more than aware that I was not.” She directed her attention to Damien, who was looking at her in shock. A man without an ounce of spine, he probably couldn’t imagine why she would do such a thing. “So keep your hands off of me for a few weeks, at least.” 

Tyrrel was wrestling with this, she could tell. Whether to pointlessly test her, to prove his power, or to let her be. He had to know she wasn’t lying. Her life was infinitely freer when she wasn’t with child, he had made sure of that. Finally, he directed his furious gaze to Reinne, who’s clear face was doing nothing to hide the pride in her eyes. Truly, the woman was a fool, but Basille couldn’t help feeling bolstered by it all. 

“The queen is to be sequestered in her rooms. The safety of her child is of utmost importance, and you and your partner will keep her under personal guard at every moment of the day and night. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“Good.” He turned back to sneer at Basille, and she could only hold his eyes for a brief moment. “We will have a conversation about this when you have completed your duty, one way or another.”

The threat hung in the air as he turned, Damien trotting confusedly after him and shutting the door as he went. The moment they were gone, Basille felt herself collapsing inward, relief battling the feeling that perhaps she should have said nothing at all. 

“You really are with child, your highness?” Reinne’s quiet question brought her back to herself, and she jumped. Holding up a hand before Reinne could apologize, Basille grimaced. 

“I’m afraid I am.” 

“You’re unhappy?” 

Before she could stop them, tears welled up in her eyes, and Basille laughed self-deprecatingly. “Oh, very much so, Reinne. Very much so.” She reached up, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes and biting back a sob. Whether the emotion came from fear, relief, or pure, devastating sadness, she had no idea. So much had happened, so very fast in those last few months. She’d had so much pain, and she wanted, more than anything, for it to stop. Arms wrapped around her, squeezing tightly, and Basille let herself collapse into her guard’s hold, leaning into her for support as the waves of emotion finally broke free. She didn’t question for more than a moment why on earth Reinne had decided to hold her, choosing instead to appreciate the all too rare moment of not feeling as though she was completely alone in this hell. 

“I… I hope you know, your majesty, that we stand beside you,” Reinne murmured, one hand briefly reaching up to touch Basille’s hair. It dropped almost immediately, and Basille straightened as the other pulled back, letting Reinne hold her at arm's length. “I know that Malak and I are no replacement for Halle, and I would never try to be, a-and I wish that I could promise to provide you with the protection I am meant--”

“How is it that you found your way here, Reinne?” Basille couldn’t fathom being bold enough to comfort someone like her, someone so entirely powerless and somehow untouchable. There was no part of Reinne that she felt as though she understood, and the mystery was enough, for the moment, to distract her from her own misery.

Reinne looked surprised at the question for a moment, arms slowly dropping to her sides. “The king chose me for my upbringing, but you know that.”

Laughing, Basille wiped away the last of her tears. “Ah, yes. There are some who still see you as the first move for the women of this kingdom. The bringer of change, the symbol of power.”

Bitterness mixed with amusement took over Reinne’s face, and Basille grinned. “Yes, I can see change on the rise,” Reinne said with a faint tone of lighthearted mockery. “I’ll stand for every powerless woman in this kingdom as our king fights to keep his place. Everyone is happy.” 

“Good to know you’re self-aware, at least,” Blue laughed. It was borderline treason, what Reinne was saying, but Basille would die before she would report it. This was an odd feeling, a companionship that it had been too long since she had felt. Not like the comforting friendship Halle had brought, but something...lighter. “Even so, you are inarguably the most powerful woman in this kingdom. I can’t help but wonder how your story began.” 

“That title would belong to you.” 

Basille was still smiling, despite the emotion that suddenly roared to life inside of her. “You’re avoiding the question. I have no power at all.” 

“Actually,” Reinne ventured, glancing down at her hands, “I know that you do. Every eye in the kingdom is on you. I know of more than one woman who has taken their strength from you, from the stories of your kindness. I know that I… I take my strength in the powerlessness I feel from you, your highness.”

It was amazing, Basille thought, that she actually believed her. Looking at Reinne, she had no doubt that she meant it. It was objective, she’d thought, to believe that Basille had no strength at all. But this woman, standing before her in deference despite there being no real reason for it, truly thought that she was strong.

“Basille.” 

Reinne looked up, confusion plain on her face. 

“Call me Basille. At least when we are alone.” She wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she didn’t regret the informality. 

“Basille?” Reinne said, seeming to be trying out the shape of the name in her mouth. Laughing, Basille nodded. 

“Please. It would bring me great joy.”

Reinne’s face lit up into a smile, and Basille found herself enjoying the spark of warmth that entered her eyes. 

“As you wish.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we talk about "You're unhappy, your highness?" "Oh, very much so" like that's it that's the story you got it


	10. Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wasn’t much of a religious person, the gods having failed in their protections one too many times to be able to earn her respect, but she was praying now.   
> Please. Please be a boy. 

Basille relaxed back into the sheets of her bed, rubbing one hand back and forth over her stomach. She was small in frame, always had been, and through all of her pregnancies, she’d been able to feel the roundness of her stomach a few weeks sooner than Damien said she should. 

They’d established, over and over, that it was no damage to either her or the child, though, so she was largely left alone about it. 

As she’d thought, the king hadn’t let her escape examinations for long. Damien had taken a look at her earlier that day, his procedures for checking her health somehow even more invasive than the one he used to check for pregnancy in the first place. He’d confirmed that both she and the child were okay, and that as long as she stayed in her rooms, she should be fine. She’d been further along than even she thought, and her heartbreak had only increased with the proclamation that Damien would be able to determine the sex of her child within the next few days. 

Tyrrel had asked to be present, as he always did, and she pushed back the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. She wasn’t much of a religious person, the gods having failed in their protections one too many times to be able to earn her respect, but she was praying now. 

Please. Please be a boy. 

Slowly, she opened her eyes, hand pausing in its path as she stared at the underside of her bedframe. It was a smooth wood, and her eyes searched out the patterns she knew by heart, eyes locking to the faint outline of a crescent moon before she sighed. 

There was no point in dreading it, she supposed. It was going to happen, one way or another, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. 

Sitting up, she glanced over at Malak. He was working on his puzzle ring, as usual, a pair of interlocking pieces of metal he’d gotten at a town’s fair. You were supposed to be able to arrange them in a fashion that they were easily separated, but he’d been working on it for at least two years and she’d never once seen him succeed. The man was nothing if not determined. 

“Can I try?” she asked, and Malak jumped, not seeming to have noticed her sitting up. 

“Of course, your highness,” he said, standing and crossing the room to hand over the rings. She struggled with them for a moment, twisting and turning them one way and another before she sighed. Giving up, she handed them back, then patted the mattress beside her. 

“There’s not much to do when I’m stuck in my room,” she explained. “I should like to watch you work on the puzzle, if I could.” 

Slowly, he nodded, taking his seat beside her and going back to what he had been doing. She watched his fingers with interest, trying to puzzle out the shapes at the same time as him. 

Malak had never been a friend, but he had been a constant part of her life for almost as long as she could remember. He’d been close to some of her siblings when they were younger, and though none would admit it, she thought her father might have asked him to follow her to the palace when she was married. For someone she’d known for so long, he was too stuck on decorum. Basille had always been lacking in friends, but she certainly didn’t  _ blame _ him for that. Still, though, she had always wished they could be closer. 

He reminded her a great deal of her oldest brother. It’d been years since she’d seen him, but he’d have to be… oh, twenty-five? Twenty-six? He’d been married when Basille was still quite young, and moved to the far coast. She was closer in distance to him now, but she’d never really thought to try and reach out to him. Basille wanted her family to remember her as the wild-minded child they’d once known, instead of the broken woman she now was.

Malak made a small noise of frustration, then tucked the rings into his pocket. Glancing up at her windows, he suddenly asked, “Your highness, would you like me to open those? Get you some fresh air?” 

“I would love that,” she said with feeling. The queen’s rooms weren’t exactly lacking in amenities, but any time she was placed on constant supervision, she could feel herself waning. 

Standing slowly, she followed Malak to the windows, propping her elbows on the sill and peering out over the gardens. She could see the flowers beginning to bloom, and allowed herself a small smile at the sight. 

“Do you like flowers, Malak?” 

He paused in his motions, window half-open and not yet propped. “I suppose. Not to the same degree as you, though.” 

Nodding, Basille took a deep breath, trying to catch a whiff of the blooms below and finding herself disappointed to find none. “Could you ask one of the door guards to fetch a maid? I would like to have roses brought.” 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“Thank you,” she said, and he paused. For a long moment, she thought he might say something, but as she looked back to meet his eyes, his gaze dropped to the floor. 

“I will collect them myself, actually. It’s time for me to fetch Reinne anyway.” 

Slowly, Basille inclined her head. “Okay. Thank you.” 

These were the few precious moments of privacy she ever got these days, the time when one of her guards would fetch the other. Often, she would use those moments to relieve herself or change a chafing piece of clothing. Today, though, she was content. 

Basille leaned against the window’s edge, closing her eyes and breathing in fresh air. 

~~~

When Damien came for her, it was again Reinne that was acting as her guard. The blooms Malak had fetched a few days before were beginning to wilt, and she was just starting to think that she should ask for replacements when her door inched open, the weasel-faced man himself peeking through. 

Basille had been busying herself with her reading, but she slowly put down her book as she saw the other. 

“Is the king waiting?” she asked, and he nodded. 

“Do you require my assistance to--” 

“No. I will meet you at your quarters,” she said shortly, dismissing him with a wave and pulling herself to her feet. Reinne started to stand, but she waved her off. “You don’t need to accompany me. Please, rest.” 

Reinne hesitated, then tightened her grip on her sword. “I think I will accompany you anyway, Basille. If you don’t want me inside the examination, I will still walk you to the door.” 

Giving her a look, Basille decided not to push it further. Her heart was pounding, the calm facade she was desperately holding in place as risk of giving in at any moment. “Fine,” she said. “I… I appreciate the protection.” 

The same unfunny joke of Reinne’s protection made them grimace in unison. 

Basille needlessly smoothed her skirts, then beckoned to Reinne, making her way out the door and past her guards with the other following silently behind her. Their footsteps made echoes down empty halls, and Basille glanced up to the ceiling. It was pristine, she noticed, and briefly wondered how the servants got high enough to clean it. 

Reinne held open the door to the east wing, and Basille nodded her thanks, suddenly unable to speak as Damien’s examination room came into view. Each step felt like it covered a mile, and yet she felt as though she wasn’t moving forward at all. Her breathing stuttered, and she fought back panic as she--

“Your highness.” 

Snapping out of the fear, Basille suddenly realized that Reinne had taken her hand. The other squeezed it softly, then, in a seeming moment of wild bravery, lifted her fingers, pressing a soft kiss to Basille’s skin before she dropped the hand entirely. 

Basille’s heart skipped a beat. 

“I’ll be right outside,” Reinne said quietly, and Basille nodded in thanks. 

She stepped up to the door, pushing it open and wondering why the place Reinne’s lips had just been felt so much like it was afire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAYYYY


	11. Bruises and Bleeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They laid her back down on the ground, and she tried to breathe deeply, wincing at the pain of it as Reinne asked Damien, “What happened?”
> 
> “You’ll need to ask the queen. I’m not at liberty to say.”
> 
> Reinne growled in frustration, but Basille chuckled, finally finding the strength to move herself and reaching up to rub at her eyes. “It’s no great secret, Damien. You are a coward, and your king is a murderer.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SEE END NOTES FOR TRIGGER WARNINGS  
> I also included a chapter TLDR in case you can't read the chapter.

She couldn’t breathe. She was gasping for air, and she could tell her lungs were filling, but she couldn’t breathe. Her chest spasmed, and tears streamed down her face. She was sobbing, she could tell, but she couldn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything but the pain in her stomach and her chest. 

Someone was trying to get her to roll over, but she jerked away, lashing out roughly. She heard Damien grunt, but couldn’t bring herself to care. Finally, she felt the air drawing into her lungs, and she let it out as one long, broken cry. Her throat ached, and her body hurt as someone picked her up, placing her none-so-gently on the medical table in the middle of the room. The sound of the door slamming open startled her, and she broke off her scream, continuing to sob as someone shouted indistinctly beside her. Her head was dropped, and she jumped as it smacked to the hard stone. 

More shouting, then Basille's cheek was cupped, shifting her gaze to look at the person touching her. It took her a moment, but eventually, she looked up, comprehending slowly that now, it was Reinne beside her. 

Her face was pale, and there was blood on her hands, smeared across her cheek. Her mouth was moving, but Basille couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. Eventually, Reinne disappeared from her view, and she squeezed her eyes shut. 

How… how had it come to this? 

Gentle fingers took her by the hands, tucking them further up her chest. She let them. Didn’t care anymore. Hands on her stomach, feeling carefully. For what, an injury? Shouldn’t be hard, everything hurt. Her head hurt. She wasn't sure what it was from.

“Basille.” 

She jumped, eyes flying open to meet Reinne’s. There was a determined sort of anger in the other’s eyes, and Basille worried, for a moment, that it was directed at her. 

“Please don’t go to sleep. You’re going to be okay.” 

“It’s too late, Reinne, she already--” 

“She’s fucking hurt, Damien! And _she's_ what's important!” Reinne glared over her shoulder, and Basille found herself fascinated by a minute scar just under her chin. She wondered how she had gotten it. It was so small, it could have been anything. Training, a childhood injury. Reinne seemed the type to have climbed trees as a child. As her mouth moved, the scar warped with the stretch of the skin over her jaw. “Get over here and help her!”

She sucked in a sharp breath as someone prodded at her ribs. She saw more than felt Reinne wrap an arm around the back of her shoulders, lifting her just enough for Damien to pull Basille’s bodice down to her waist and begin wrapping her midriff in bandages. They were a stark difference to the color of her skin, and it took her too long to realize that it was because there was a dark, ugly red bruise blooming across her torso. 

The skin had split in places, blood beading along the cuts, but Damien wrapped them the same as everything else. She didn’t know much about medicine, but she figured that if she was in danger of bleeding out, it would be from… “I lost the baby.” 

Her voice was raspy, and so quiet she would have thought no one had heard her if Reinne hadn’t tightened her grip on her arm, quiet grief in her face. “Yes.” 

Basille coughed, once, then tried to speak louder. “Am I going to bleed to death?” 

There was a bitter laugh at that, and it took her a moment to realize it had come from Damien. He was finishing off tying the bandage, then gestured for help from Reinne to fix Basille’s clothing. “No, your highness. You’ll live to fight another day.” 

They laid her back down on the ground, and she tried to breathe deeply, wincing at the pain of it as Reinne asked Damien, “What happened?”

“You’ll need to ask the queen. I’m not at liberty to say.”

Reinne growled in frustration, but Basille chuckled, finally finding the strength to move herself and reaching up to rub at her eyes. “It’s no great secret, Damien. You are a coward, and your king is a murderer.” 

“You should take her back to her rooms before she gets me in trouble,” Damien snapped at Reinne, standing quickly and leaving through the same door the king must have taken. 

Staring after him in confusion, Reinne didn’t seem sure what to do at first. Then she looked down at Basille, grief and worry warring across her face until, finally, she just asked, “Can you walk?” 

The whole stumbling journey back to her rooms was an ordeal of pain. Basille realized as she started to sit carefully on her bed that she didn’t remember about half of it, and for that, at least, she was grateful. 

“Whoa!” Reinne seized her by the upper arm, stopping her from fully sitting, then seemed to wrestle for a moment with how to proceed. Basille allowed her to come to her own conclusion, too tired to have an opinion. Finally, Reinne gestured towards her skirts, seeming at a loss for words. “You… I can help you change, out of that.” 

Basille looked down, staring wordlessly at the blood staining her skirts. “Oh.” Before she could stop herself, tears welled back up in her eyes, every hitch of her breath echoing painfully through her ribs. 

“Oh, Basille--” Reinne’s voice broke as she reached out, cupping her cheek for a moment as she wiped a tear away with her thumb. Neither of them had any notion that this was appropriate, that the queen should be on the edge of a breakdown with her guard as her only comfort, but what other choice did she have? What part of this situation was appropriate or normal?

Basille allowed herself to be gathered up and held, just like the last time she had broken down like this. It was always Reinne, wasn’t it? She seemed to be the only one left to pay witness to her weakness, but Basille didn’t find herself minding too much. She didn’t like to appear uncontrolled, but it wasn’t any use hiding it from this woman who had appeared so suddenly in her broken life. Rubbing her back, the other held her carefully, clearly trying not to agitate any of her many wounds.

“The king,” Basille finally blubbered out, the sound muffled against Reinne’s leather-padded shoulder. “He killed them. He killed them all.” 

“Them?” 

“My daughters.” 

Reinne stiffened, and Basille pulled back to see that she was even paler than she had been when she rushed into the room in response to her screaming. “Your…” 

“Three times now,” Basille whispered, reaching down to rest one hand gently on her bruised stomach. “I know most of the kingdom thinks I’ve only… I’m supposed to keep them secret, when we find out I’m with child. The king has no interest in anything but an heir.” 

Horrified, Reinne looked down at where her hand rested. Basille could practically see her putting the pieces together, one terrible realization at a time. 

“The king did this to you because you were going to have a daughter?” 

“He usually doesn’t.”

“Usually?!”

“I… I was fighting back this time. Stupid. So  _ stupid _ .” She took a deep breath, regretting it instantly as her chest burned. “It’s usually just a medicine they give me, to stop the pregnancy. But I didn’t want it, I… this is the child Halle died to protect, I didn’t want to lose her. I was… I was really hoping she would be a boy this time. And when she wasn’t I just couldn’t let her die too, I don’t know--” Breaking off, she looked back down at her bloody skirts. “Can you help me change out of this? I’d very much like to lay down.” 

Reinne seemed to be trying to figure out something to say, tears thick in her eyes before she just nodded, stepping around Basille to work at the laces on the back of her dress. Her inexperience was immediately evident, but Basille waited patiently, unwilling to summon any of her maids. They always looked at her with such pity after losing a child, and she didn’t have the capacity to explain to another person why she was so much more injured than usual. 

“Basille?” 

She realized the ties were undone, and shrugged herself out of her bodice, pulling down the loosened skirts with it. “Yes?” 

“If I could get you out of this castle, away from here, would you go?” 

Freezing in place, Basille searched for something to say. “You can’t.” 

“If I could.” 

“No, you don’t understand.” She turned quickly, taking Reinne’s hands and squeezing tightly, trying to express just how much she meant it. “You can’t even try.” 

The tears running down Reinne’s cheeks brought her back to herself, and she realized just how much her entire body hurt, how sticky the blood clinging to her legs truly was. 

“I hope you realize this already, but I care for you, Basille. I’m here to keep you safe, and aside from that, I consider you my… my friend! I couldn’t stand to watch you--” 

“And I couldn’t stand to watch you die. I do not want to bury another companion.” Something unsure flickered in Reinne’s face, but Basille just shook her head. “Halle has already died for me, died trying to  _ save _ me. You must understand, and you must keep it in the forefront of your mind, that there is no saving me. I am gone.” 

“I am more than willing to die for you, your highness.” 

Basille frowned at the honorific, but ignored it, instead shaking her head. “I don’t want that.” Frustration was plain in Reinne’s face, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Basille reached up, clapping a hand over it and glaring as harshly as she was able. “Do you want to help me?” 

Silently, Reinne nodded, eyes earnest. 

“Then don’t do anything _fucking_ stupid.” Reinne’s expression at hearing her queen swear was almost enough to make the pain of laughing worth it. Then, before she could change her mind, she allowed herself a brief moment of weakness. “I’m going to change. Can you stay for the night? I know the king said I only had to be guarded full-time until I had completed my duties, but I would appreciate the company.”

Reinne nodded slowly, and Basille took her hand back, glancing disdainfully down at her ruined dress. Before she could ask, Reinne started gathering them into her arms, rolling them up so that the blood was no longer visible. As she tossed them into the clothes bin, Basille went to the washroom. She probably could have asked Reinne to help her change into her nightdress, or scrub the blood from her legs, but Basille desperately needed a moment to compose herself. A bath sounded wonderful, but she couldn't fathom the energy it would take to even have one drawn. 

When she returned to her bedroom, Reinne had pulled her guard's chair up next to Basille's bed, and she was hovering near the door to the washroom. She had taken off her sword, and Basille could see it leaning against her bedpost. 

"I can take that," Reinne said quietly, taking the chemise from Basille's arms and gesturing to her bed. "I asked for a hot water bottle to be brought. It should be here soon."

Blinking back grateful tears, Basille nodded her thanks. Her gaze shifted to her empty bed, taking in the fact that Reinne had pulled back her blankets, pillows arranged carefully so that she could just collapse into sleep. 

Just as the thought occurred, there was a knock at the door, and Reinne left her to open it. Basille sat carefully on her mattress, watching as Reinne took the bottle from whoever had delivered it before she closed the door, returning to Basille's side and lifting the blankets. Taking the cue, Basille laid down, wincing as the motion made her body ache. Reinne tucked the bottle behind her back, and Basille sighed at the warmth as the blankets were pulled up to cover her. 

"Thank you," she murmured, and Reinne smiled. 

"Is there anything else you need?" 

Basille squeezed her eyes shut, and before she could stop it, she said, "I do not want to sleep alone." 

"I'll be here," Reinne said quietly, and Basille heard the scrape of the chair being pulled closer, a soft creak to signal that Reinne had sat down. "Don't worry. No one will disturb your sleep tonight." 

Quirking a smile, Basille let her eyes open just enough to see Reinne looking at her earnestly. "I have no doubt I will be very safe with the kingdom’s most skilled woman at my side, in any capacity.” She could feel it coming together in her mind, a familiar pattern of failed repression making the fear and the pain well up behind her eyes. Watching her, Reinne's eyes softened, and she leaned forward, brushing the hair out Basille's face. 

"I appreciate the trust," Reinne murmured, sitting back into her chair and picking up her sword. As she laid it across her lap, Basille just watched her. She got the wild urge to laugh at the other's determined expression, but managed to keep the humor to herself. 

"Reinne?" 

"Yes?" 

"Would you join me, if I asked?" The moment the question left her mouth, Basille regretted it. It was completely inappropriate, and no matter how many times she'd let Halle hold her as she fell asleep, Halle had been someone rare. It was clear that Reinne cared for her, but not even she--"

"I would," Reinne said, and Basille blinked at her in surprise. Then Reinne shifted back in her chair, glancing back at the door. "I would prefer to guard you, but I do not want you to feel alone, Basille." 

Tears welling in her eyes, Basille held out a hand. After a second of hesitation, Reinne took it, and Basille drew her in just enough to kiss her knuckles. "I am blessed to have a friend such as you," she whispered, and Reinne's cheeks flushed red. Basille repeated the motion, and Reinne twined their fingers together. 

"I'm blessed to have the opportunity," Reinne said, and Basille tightened her grip momentarily. 

Reinne relaxed back into her chair, and Basille closed her eyes. Tears finally overflowed, running into her rose-scented pillow as Reinne's thumb drew softly over her skin. Basille let herself pretend, once again, that she wasn’t alone. 

Just as she was finally starting to fall asleep, her exhaustion outweighing the racing of her mind, she heard Reinne beginning to murmur something. It was almost a chant, like a prayer to unfamiliar gods.

“Cerulean, I pray to you, my lady of the sky and clouds, I ask…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Forced miscarriage, abuse, beating (all off-screen, this is only the aftereffects)
> 
> TLDR (chapter spoilers): Basille has just been beaten by the king, and after Reinne helps to treat her, Basille reveals to her that the king has been forcing miscarriages for any child that isn't a boy. She tried to fight back and that's why he hurt her. She asks Reinne to sit with her until she falls asleep, and right before she does so, she hears Reinne praying to unfamiliar goddesses for her protection.


	12. Nothing To Be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was another part of her, though, that didn’t think twice before nodding, smiling as she crossed the room to look down at what the queen was working on. That part of her already grieved for the pain of trying to do something anyway.
> 
> She truly was lost, wasn’t she?

Reinne leaned back against the wall, the rickety bed frame creaking below her as she moved. Outside the window, she could see a new contingent of guards practicing, and watched them with a faint smile on her face. There were several of them that she recognized from her home in the city, boys much younger than her, who’s advancement into the ranks of the guard had given her a shocking reminder of the passage of time. 

They were a mess, as they were expected to be, but most of them looked as though they would learn. Given enough time, nearly anyone could, she thought. Karlen had certainly always believed that. 

It was evident enough in his decision to pick up a street rat and turn her into a warrior. 

She started as the door opened, Malak stepping in and squinting at her. “Why are you awake?” 

“I already slept,” she answered, looking at him questioningly. “How long have you been with the queen?” 

“Since the sun set last night,” he said, and she shook her head. 

“You could have summoned me.” 

“Ah, about the time I would have, the king visited. He asked me to stay through the visit, and he and the queen took a turn in the garden.” 

Reinne looked at him, surprised. “Only a walk in the garden? Isn’t that unusual?”

“Why, because the king keeps her at arms length? Yes, except that we currently have Banamoran visitors in the north wing. They arrived last night.” 

That explained the higher activity of guards in the courtyards, and the polished armor on the new men. “I’m surprised I wasn’t summoned.”

“You will be. They're meeting with the dignitaries in a few hours, and I’m going to need to sleep anyway, so you might as well head up to the queen’s quarters now. Did you know that one of the Banamoran women has a wife?” 

Forcing her expression into one of neutral indifference, Reinne asked, “Oh?” 

“Yeah! A woman, not only a representative of their royalty but with a wife of her own! I had heard stories that that sort of thing was accepted in Banamore, but I hadn’t believed it! Imagine a priest being willing--” 

“I hear they worship different gods,” Reinne interjected, swinging her legs off the bed and setting them flat on the floor. “Goddesses, who encourage living freely and who rule over their nature instead of their people.

“Our king may be a cruel man, but at least our gods are sane!” Malak laughed. “I thought the king was going to pass to the heavens themselves the moment he heard of it, but he managed to keep his head, luckily for the queen.” 

“Do you…” She hesitated, the question on the edge of her tongue, one that she knew she shouldn’t ask. Still though, she wanted to know the answer. “Does it bother you?”

“Does what bother me? The Banamorans?” He leaned down, looking into the round mirror set into the wall and picking at something in his teeth. Honestly, he was like an animal. Sharing a room with him was an adventure that never came to an end, but it was better than sleeping on the floor, like many soldiers did.

“No, I think you’ve made your feelings on that clear,” she forced a laugh. “I meant the king. Does… does it bother you, what he does to the queen?” 

Malak froze, and Reinne watched as his knuckles turned white where he was gripping the edge of the wardrobe. He straightened suddenly, sadness in his eyes despite refusing to look at Reinne. “I’ve known Queen Basille longer than she’s been the queen. She grew up a lady on the other side of Saibhadha, and my father was their head guardsman. I was a close friend to her brother, and considered a courtship with her sister before I was offered this appointment. There was a time she might have been one of my own sisters.” He looked up, the sadness in his eyes all the more apparent as they met Reinne’s. “You can’t let it get to you. There’s nothing we can do to stop the king. All we can do is serve the queen as she asks, and keep her safe from the dangers from outside.” 

“It seems useless to protect her from danger that has no evidence of existing when there is danger right now, next to her in the palace.” She could feel herself growing bolder, knowing what she now knew about his history. “I wonder, at times, if the king only has us here to prove to Basille that she is truly powerless.” 

He flinched as Reinne used Basille’s first name, and she cursed herself for the slip, opening her mouth to come up with an explanation before he asked, “You remember Halle, right?” 

“Yes, of course,” she said, not liking where she knew this tangent was going.

“Do you know why she died?” 

“So that the king could hurt Basille,” she murmured, sure in her answer and thus surprised when Malak shook his head. 

“Halle went to the visiting Banamorans, and was going to ask them to take the queen with them as they left. I heard the king gloating of how she never even reached their wing of the palace. If you would like to join her at the bottom of the walls, then by all means. Protect the queen from the danger here. Or do what is smart, and find another way to help. Now get off the bed, I need to sleep.”

Nodding, Reinne stood, letting him crawl below the thin blanket, then abruptly huffing and pulling it away so she could tug off his shoes and throw them into a corner. “I told you not to wear those on the sheets.” 

“If you’re going to be a woman, do it in another room, Reinne. I’m too tired for this.” 

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed her shoes and sword and left the room, shutting the door perhaps a bit louder than was necessary. 

As she made her way towards the queen’s rooms, she found herself lost in thought. The part of her that understood their position knew that Malak was right. The king had so much power, too many guards and too high of an ego. Nothing Reinne could do would make any real difference, unless she wanted to be killed. 

She nodded to the queen’s door guards as she passed, knocking quickly before letting herself into the quiet room. 

Basille turned, smiling when she saw who her newcomer was, and Reinne sighed inwardly. The sunlight streaming through the window lit up her white-gold hair in a shining blaze, glinting off of her eyelashes and making the blue of her eyes clear and bright. Reinne couldn’t pull her gaze from the queen’s smile, or her thoughts from the way the room smelled of her, of the flowers she adored and the perfumed oils that filled her baths. 

Yes, the part of her that was a guard knew there was nothing to be done.

“Reinne! I’m so glad to see you, won’t you come and sit with me?”

There was another part of her, though, that didn’t think twice before nodding, smiling as she crossed the room to look down at what the queen was working on. That part of her already grieved for the pain of trying to do something anyway.

She truly was lost, wasn’t she?

~~~

When Reinne had gone through her things, she’d found a pendant tucked into one of her bags, something she’d stuffed in on second thought when she’d left Karlen’s house. It was the only thing left of her mother, but her mother was a mystery, not so much worth holding on to keepsakes as she was to leave Reinne wondering what of her was in her own face. The memories were scattered, but the ones that stuck with her were the reason she’d kept the pendant for so long. 

The pendant held the symbol of Banamore’s goddess of the sky, Cerulean. Her worship was outlawed in this country, and it was really no surprise when you considered how freely their goddesses let their people live. 

Reinne had taken to wearing it around her neck in the last few weeks, tucked down the front of her shirt where no one could see that she was betraying Saibhadha’s gods. Karlen had raised her to worship them, but she had never really felt their presence. Cerulean, though, Reinne could remember her mother praying to, feeling electricity light her fingertips as her mother spoke. Reinne had been hurt, once, broken her arm and her mother hadn’t had the money to bring her to a medicine woman. Her mother had turned to her father’s gods, and she had claimed they had healed Reinne. 

She wasn’t sure she believed that, but the idea of these goddesses brought with them a strange sort of comfort. They were women. Perhaps they could understand.

It was becoming more common for Basille to ask her to stay as she slept. Usually, that just meant pulling the guard’s chair close, maybe holding her hand like she had that first time. A few times, though, Basille had followed through on her question, asking Reinne to be right beside her. Reinne would always do so, laying on top of the blankets and letting Basille decide how much space was left between them. It always made Reinne’s heart pound, a strange mix of guilt and happiness choking off her breath until Basille’s head rested on her chest. Nothing untoward ever came of it, of  _ course _ not, but Reinne still felt like she shouldn’t be doing it. 

The only reason she still did was because it helped Basille. There was no denying that she slept more peacefully with someone beside her. Whether she felt safer or was just pretending she was Halle, Reinne had no idea, but she always had to reassure herself of her own motivations. 

She was helping. She was giving comfort, a purely platonic method of soothing someone she knew needed the companionship. Someone that, despite the breach of decorum, Reinne considered to be her friend. 

Reinne was falling in love with the queen. 

It was stupid, so unbelievably thoughtless and selfish on top of the fact that it could get her killed, but there was no denying it. The sight of Basille filled her with warmth, and the curve of her smile appeared too often in her dreams. Every time she saw the other, she wanted to pull her into her arms, bury her face into her neck and let her draw comfort just from the hold. 

Her soul ached just to think of her, of the pain she couldn’t take away and the fact that… well, it was an impossible wish. 

She’d tried to change her thoughts, though admittedly not very hard. It wasn’t a bad feeling, and not one she wanted to get rid of, but to be in love with the queen? 

God, it was just so stupid. 

But the brush of blonde hair on her chin, soft fingers curled lightly into her sleeve, breath running over Reinne’s skin, with the smell of flowers and the sensation of warm affection that filled her heart? It was something like a drug. Reinne was afraid she’d never be able to give it up. She didn’t know if she could hold it back. 

Never in a million years could she imagine hurting Basille, but if she found out? If the king did? It could put them both in danger, no matter that Basille didn’t return the affections. The king would take any excuse to press his advantage over her, and even if by some miracle, he left Basille alone, Reinne would undoubtedly die. 

It felt like the obvious solution, to leave. She’d thought long and hard about it, coming to the conclusion that if she asked, the king would likely be happy to move her to his ambassadors’ company of soldiers. That would put her before the eye of their royalty, help him to further whatever agenda had caused him to hire her in the first place. 

It would seem like abandonment. She couldn’t explain to Basille  _ why _ she was leaving, so it would seem as though she no longer wished for their friendship. Reinne had no desire to hurt her. She didn’t want to deprive a hurting woman of another of her friends, no matter that Reinne didn’t think she could ever forget her love for her. 

Wasn’t that what love was, though? Doing everything you could to help the other person? Keeping them safe, and doing the best for them? Even if Basille hated her at the end of it, this is what would keep her safe. 

It just ached. 

Reinne leaned over the rail of the bridge upon which she stood. She could see the sun flashing over the water, the cool air soothing her mind and making it easier to think. It’d been a long time since she had come here, since long before Karlen’s death, but it had been  _ her _ place. The place she’d come any time his wife was overly cruel to her, or when the guilt of loving women threatened to overwhelm her. It was her safe place, a tucked-away pocket of just herself. 

Today, she’d come here to pray, clutching her pendant tightly in her hand and squeezing her eyes shut as she asked what to do. There’d been no answer. Of course there hadn’t, but she couldn’t help but be disappointed. There was no easy solution, no ready-made decision for her to just follow and lay the blame at someone else’s feet. 

There was no way she could just leave. That was such absolute bullshit, and she knew it. Running away under the guise of keeping Basille safe did no good if it put the other in more pain. She knew it would, that her leaving with no explanation would do nothing but hurt the woman she was falling in love with too fast to stop. 

Reinne took a deep breath. 

If she really thought about it, she knew that Basille would never report her. Basille may not approve, she would not return the feeling, but she deserved an explanation, and Reinne didn’t think she could report anyone to the king, especially for an infraction based so deeply in love. That was it, she thought. 

Basille would be safer for her leaving. But Reinne would tell her, before she went. She deserved an explanation.

And Reinne would, for the first time, be protecting the queen.


	13. Too Close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Reinne, it’s okay,” she said, stepping forward. Almost of their own volition, her hands jumped to cup the other’s face, and she smoothed her thumbs over her skin. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.” 
> 
> There was a long moment where they just looked at each other, Reinne’s brown eyes filling with terrified tears. “Basille, I… I have grown too close to you.” 

Just after Halle had died, Basille had made a request for more roses to be planted in the palace gardens. She’d been able to see the gardeners as they got to work fulfilling her request, and had gone down to see the bushes as soon as they were in the ground. They hadn’t been blooming when she’d gone, but she’d made plans to see them as soon as they were. Because of the king’s orders and her later injuries, however, this was the first time she was actually seeing them in all their beautiful glory. 

She was finally healed enough that the king had granted his permission for her to leave her rooms, and the moment word had come, she’d gathered her skirts, excitedly looking to Malak in anticipation. He’d laughed and called for her maids, to her disappointment, but she knew he was right. It wouldn’t do to make the king think he was being shamed by her waltzing about the palace grounds in peasant’s clothes. She was still the queen, after all. 

The moment she’d stepped foot outside, hair curled and properly dressed, she’d made a beeline for this corner, Malak having to trot to keep up with her. 

The gardeners had gone above and beyond with the request, and the beautifully arranged buds nearly brought tears to her eyes. Halle would have loved them, she thought. The myriad of colors was all the memorial she ever could have hoped for. 

Carefully, she stepped onto the wood that encircled the plants, lifting her skirts with one hand to prevent herself from tripping. With the other, she cupped a particular blossom, stroking the petals softly before all at once burying her nose in the center and taking a deep breath. Immediately, she sneezed, pulling back to avoid ruining the flower as she sneezed again, then again, all in quick succession. 

Behind her, she heard a familiar laugh, and turned with a smile to see Reinne approaching. “I’ll thank you not to laugh at your queen.” 

Reinne bowed deeply, the smile still plain on her face. “Yes, your majesty.” 

“What brings you?” Malak asked, looking at his partner in confusion. To Basille’s knowledge, her guards weren’t meant to switch until after dinner, and by his expression, she assumed he was thinking the same. 

“General Byron requires your presence,” she said as she straightened. “He’s a few men short on his patrol. I’ll take over your duties until tomorrow morning.” 

Malak nodded sharply, then turned back to Basille, bowing just as Reinne had. “Excuse me, your highness. I am required elsewhere.” 

She smiled fondly. He really was an earnest man, seeming much younger than he was at times. “Of course. I wish you safety.” 

“Thank you, your highness.” 

As he left, Reinne assumed his position, hands clasped behind her as she watched Basille turn back to the flowers. They stood in silence for a few moments, Basille smelling the blossoms at a safer distance this time, until Reinne suddenly spoke. 

“Are these for Halle?” 

“Yes,” Basille answered, smiling happily down at the latest bloom, a dark purple that reminded her of the shirt Reinne usually wore. Following the thought, she turned around, squinting at the shirt in question before holding out a hand. “Come, I want to compare these colors.” 

Reinne furrowed her brow, but stepped forward, allowing Basille to take her by the arm and hold her sleeve against the richly-colored petals. The match was slightly off, the flowers a little bluer than the cloth, but it was still close enough to make her grin in satisfaction. 

“You know, Halle’s sister was Banamoran,” she said suddenly, letting Reinne have her arm back. “They had different fathers, and Halle came here in the hopes of finding her sister’s father. He was a nobleman from their country.” 

“Did she ever find him?”

“No, I don’t think so. As sad as it is, he had likely passed on before she took her station. Didn’t you say that your grandfather was from Banamore?” Reinne nodded, and Basille continued, happily tracing a finger over the petals of the rose. “Perhaps the two knew each other. They would have been of an age, I’m sure.” 

“I doubt it,” Reinne said with a grin. “My grandfather was a foot soldier. He’d have had no reason to know a nobleman.” 

“You’re a foot soldier,” Basille commented. “And I’m the queen. Yet, we have met.” 

Reinne laughed, the sound clear and bright. It always brought a smile to Basille’s face, and she found herself suddenly entranced by the flash of the other’s smile. She took a step forward, suddenly, leaning in to smell the flower Basille held. Her softly curling hair brushed Basille’s wrist, and she shivered. 

“I’m not a foot soldier,” Reinne said, voice still holding a smile as she pulled back. “I could have you brought up on charges of treason for disrespecting the king’s decrees.” 

“Oh, could you? I’d like to see you try!”

“I think you’ll find it’s my duty, woman,” Reinne said, biting back further laughter and stepping back into her position of respect.

“Woman?!”

“Was I mistaken in my assumption?” 

Basille snorted, shaking her head as she suddenly said, “You know, I think that if I had known you better while Halle still lived, the two of you would have been great friends.” 

“She seems to have been quite the woman,” Reinne commented quietly, but when Basille looked up, she was smiling. 

“The two of you have that in common.” 

“Thank you, but--” 

“No buts,” Basille said sternly, considering the flower for a few moments before beginning to pick off the first few thorns. “Do you have a knife?” 

Reinne snorted, pulling a hunting blade from its sheath at her waist. “You know, in addition to being your friend, I am still a palace guard. Why do you need a knife?” 

“In addition to being the queen, I’m holding a flower that I’ve just de-thorned, Reinne.” Basille couldn’t stop her smile growing as she looked back at the other. The combination of the sunshine, the company, and the flowers were putting her into a better mood than she’d had in months. Despite still being behind the castle walls, she felt free. “Take your best guess.” 

Unable to hide the laughter in her eyes, Reinne stepped forward, taking hold of the flower and slicing it neatly just below her hand. Basille, still smiling, dropped her grip to overlap Reinne’s, entangling their fingers around the stem as she said, “For you.” 

Something unrecognizable flashed through Reinne’s face, her smile softening for a split second before her whole body stiffened. Confused, Basille let go of her hand, allowing the other to take the flower. Reinne couldn’t seem to look up from the petals, and Basille watched a war fight across her expression. 

“Thank you, your highness.” 

Basille wasn’t sure what to say for a moment. She was unsure what had just happened, but knew she didn’t like the other pulling back, using her title when they were clearly alone and refusing to look her in the eye. “Please, Reinne, call me Basille. As far as I am concerned, we are equals.” 

Reinne took a deep breath, finally looking up from the rose but still not quite making eye contact. “Basille.”

She wasn’t sure what to say for a long moment, but finally settled on, “What’s wrong?” 

“Ah,” Reinne said, glancing into her eyes for a split second. “It’s been a long day, is all. I’m quite tired.” 

“If that’s all it is, we could go inside. You can sleep in my room.”

She was surprised to see a deep blush appear on Reinne’s face, but the other spoke quickly, her laughing tone at odds with her wringing fingers. “I’m sure if an assassin breaks in, I would be alerted to his presence by the sound of your dying screams.” 

“I will choose to be assassinated silently, then, if it will allow you to rest.” A flicker of a smile flashed across Reinne’s face, and Basille shook her head. “Please, Reinne. What ails you?”

This was unlike her, and Basille knew she didn’t like it. Reinne was nothing if not straightforward, and the very fact that she didn’t seem to have the words at her ready was worrisome in and of itself. 

Reinne swallowed, again staring at the flower. When she spoke, her voice was breaking. “Your highness, I find myself at quite a loss.” 

“Yes?” Basille prodded, watching her carefully. She still didn’t like being called an honorific, but she let it slide, not wanting to discourage Reinne from her thoughts. 

“I am… W-when I had just come of age, there was a boy in the city, the son of a friend of my father’s. He was kind to me, and Karlen let me make my own choices, so I allowed him to court me.” 

Not having the slightest clue where this could be leading, Basille just watched her. 

“There was nothing  _ wrong _ with him, you see, but I just… he was not…” Reinne seemed frustrated, reaching up to push the fingers of one hand through her own hair as the other arm wrapped itself around her chest, rose still held tightly in her grip. “I-I…” 

“Reinne, it’s okay,” she said, stepping forward. Almost of their own volition, her hands jumped to cup the other’s face, and she smoothed her thumbs over her skin. “Whatever it is, it’s okay.” 

There was a long moment where they just looked at each other, Reinne’s brown eyes filling with terrified tears. “Basille, I… I have grown too close to you.” 

Despite the pain in her chest, Basille asked, “Did Tyrrel hurt you?” 

“No! No, that’s not…” Reinne took a deep breath, looked up to the sky in an attempt to get her tears to fade. “The king has not touched me.” 

Basille just watched her, slowly letting go of her face and reaching instead to lay her fingers on the other’s arm. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I wish you nothing but happiness, Reinne, and so long as you have that…?” 

“I prefer the company of women, your highness.” The words seemed to burst from Reinne’s lips, shame coloring her face as Basille’s eyes widened in surprise. “And I seem to have fallen in love with my queen.”

The words lit up something inside of Basille’s mind, puzzle pieces fitting together to make a picture that, in retrospect, was embarrassingly obvious. It was… gods, it made so much sense. She’d never even considered it. It was incredibly uncommon in Saibhadha, a crime worthy of execution. She supposed she could be excused for not realizing--

“I know that what I am is against the law,” Reinne was saying, words flying from her mouth more quickly than Basille had ever seen her speak. “But I needed to tell you, before I left. I am putting you in danger, Basille, even by standing at your side. I have kept this secret for so long, but I have never had reason for it to be--” 

“You’re leaving?” was all she could think to say, mind still rushing. 

“Y-yes. Yes, I-I… I am going to go to the king tomorrow, ask him to transfer me to the company of the Banamoran ambassadors. But I did not want to just abandon you without reason, so I--” 

“Oh, you…” The words to describe the other’s stupidity didn’t immediately spring to mind, and she glanced over her shoulder. There was a gardener, far out of earshot but not out of sight, and Basille let her hand drop from Reinne’s arm. Then she turned, gesturing quickly and beginning to walk towards the palace. 

After a moment of hesitation, Reinne followed, accompanying her through the halls, passing servants and guards until they arrived at her rooms. Basille’s heart was pounding, and as they entered, she jumped at the sight of the maids, arranging her sheets and chatting quietly as they worked. At the sight of her, they all stopped, and, more severely than she’d intended, she barked, “I require the room!” 

They exchanged glances, then quickly filed past her, the last of them scampering through and Basille catching Reinne’s arm as she started to follow. “You stay.” 

Reinne’s face was growing pale, but she nodded, and Basille gathered her wits about her as the other closed the door behind them and set her rose on the dresser. For a long moment, Basille was frozen, and Reinne just watched her. 

“Your highness, I know that I am a traitor to the gods,” she finally said, voice coming out a broken whisper. “But I do not wish to hear that from you.”

“Oh, Reinne…” Basille murmured. “I could not fault you for it if I tried.” 

The other’s brow furrowed in confusion, and Basille held out a shaking hand. “When I came of age, I did court men. I have never found fault in their gender alone, but as you spoke, I…  _ Reinne _ . I am so sorry.” She was understanding her previous hesitation, now, a lifetime of following unfeeling gods stopping the words before they could leave her mouth. “Please don’t leave on my account.” 

Reinne’s head inclined, and she said, “Basille, I appreciate this. I thank you for your kindness, but I don’t think you understand. I have to.” 

“I think that I understand better than you know,” Basille said, finally summoning her courage and stepping forward, taking Reinne’s hand in her own and lifting it to her lips. She felt the other’s fingers light on her shoulder as she pressed a kiss to her other palm, and Reinne’s breathing grew uneven. 

When Basille looked up, the other was staring at her in disbelief. How could Basille explain? That her words had put meaning to the feelings that had been growing inside her for so long? That even from the first moment Basille had seen her, there had been a sense of admiration she had never before experienced. That she…

“Reinne, in the event that you choose to stay,” Basille murmured, “I should hope that you believe me when I say it would bring me great happiness. I would never think to betray you.”

Letting out a short laugh, Reinne shook her head, wide eyes staring into Basille’s own. “I want to protect you.” 

“I don’t think even your leaving would do that,” Basille said dryly. “You put me in no more danger by staying than I would be in without you. Can I ask you, instead, to stay by my side?” 

“Basille…” 

“It’s a request, not a command,” she said quickly. “As much as I… your life will be in danger. It’s selfish of me to even ask, but… Reinne, I think that I may be in love with you.” 

Reinne blinked, long and hard, brows raising, then laughed again, disbelievingly. “What?”

“I love you,” Basille repeated, and she knew that she meant it. “I knew that I felt strongly towards you, but I hadn’t had the words to describe it until you said it. You love your queen? Your queen finds herself returning those feelings.” 

They just looked at each other for a long moment, Basille’s heart pounding in fear until she saw the smile growing over Reinne’s face. “Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Pulling her hand from Basille’s grip, Reinne cupped her cheeks with shaking fingers. “And you want me to stay?” 

“You make me happy, Reinne,” Basille answered. “Of course I do.” 

“This could end very badly.” 

“It won’t end well,” Basille said. “No matter what happens, there aren’t many happy endings, and if you do choose to go, you take my heart with you. I won’t fault you, and you are always welcome here when you return to Saibhadha.” 

Wildly, Reinne shook her head, starting to laugh as she leaned forward. She hesitated, then drew her into a tight hug. “I thought I had already made my decision, but damn it, Basille!” Reinne pulled back, reaching up and holding her face, laughter creasing her eyes. “How could I go? You really want this?” 

“Yes,” Basille said, starting to laugh herself. “How many times must I repeat it?” 

“At least as many as it takes to convince me this isn’t a dream.” Reinne leaned closer, searching her face carefully. Her smile didn’t seem to want to fade, and she slowly shook her head. “I would die for you in an instant, Basille. I always would have. And this would… it would bring me great joy, even if it does end badly. Of course I’ll stay.” 

Smiling, Basille leaned into one of her hands, looking up at her and wishing that Reinne didn’t have to make such promises. “Reinne?” 

“Yes?” 

“Would you do me the honor of a kiss?” 

Reinne’s eyes grew soft, and she nodded, moving forward to close the distance between them. Their lips met, a gentle press that burned through her like fire. Basille’s grip went to Reinne’s hips, and she felt one of the other’s hands slip down her jaw to rest at the curve between her neck and shoulder. 

Breaking apart, Basille felt her face flushing red, and Reinne seemed equally affected, only looking at her for a moment before she buried her face into Basille’s hair. 

“I love you,” she said, and Basille couldn’t help her smile. 

“I love you, too.” 


	14. Banquet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinne’s soul warmed at the sight of her, eyes sparkling and lips painted a soft rouge. Her pale hair was swept up from her face, crown settled neatly on her head, and her gown glittered softly as she moved, the cloth hugging her waist and sweeping out over her hips to brush the floor. Often, Reinne would try to forget that Basille was the queen, but in moments like this, when the other looked so much the part, it was impossible to forget. 

Musicians were very common in Saibhadha. The people, as a whole, loved music, and between an inn with a hired musician and one without, neary everyone would choose the former. There wasn’t very much music in the palace, though, which made the small band out by the training grounds all the more meaningful. 

One of them was the son of one of the captains, and he had brought his guests to entertain the soldiers, their jolly playfulness filling the grounds with lighthearted energy. The king had commanded that Basille stay inside while the men played, but she seemed to have quickly figured out that upon opening the window, the music bled into her room despite the king’s wishes. 

Reinne smiled, watching her softly as she swayed from side to side. It seemed to be much to the frustration of the maid trying to lace up her dress, but even she was smiling wryly at the queen’s high spirits. 

Finally completing her task, the maid tied Basille’s ribbons in a neat bow, curtsying quickly and asking if her highness needed anything else. “No, Sally, thank you,” she said, allowing her feet to move as she danced in place. She seemed to be admiring herself in the mirror, and Reinne pulled her eyes away, bidding the maid goodbye. 

As the woman left, Reinne rose to her feet, tightening a loose strap of her armor before she crossed the room in a few quick steps. Her arms wrapped around Basille from behind, and she laughed as the other tried to continue dancing. “Join me,” Basille insisted, turning in her hold and forcing Reinne to loosen the hug. 

She settled instead for catching her around the waist, Basille’s hands settling on her shoulders and pulling into a haphazard series of steps. Basille knew the court dances, but Reinne certainly didn’t, and this wasn’t court music anyway. Taking one of Basille’s hands, she spun her around, then pulled her back in close. 

Basille was laughing quietly, eyes sparking as she lifted her chin. 

Leaning in, Reinne kissed her without hesitation. Basille returned it, then stepped back, continuing to dance. They spun again, then Reinne stepped around the other, being careful not to trip over her before she placed her hand on the waist of Basille’s gown, following her steps forward before Basille turned again to face her. She was still grinning, and Reinne laughed at herself. “I have no skill in this.” 

“It takes no skill to have a good time,” Basille said, and took another kiss before she continued. “I am enjoying myself.” 

“Ah,” Reinne said thoughtfully, gathering Basille into her arms and dipping her down low. “Allow me to entertain you, your highness.” She snickered as Basille smacked her, pulling her back up to stand and holding her close. 

The tune stopped, then changed, something softer that had Basille tucking herself more securely into Reinne’s hold. “Kiss me?” she asked, and Reinne obeyed. 

Their dancing reduced to something more akin to melodic swaying, and Reinne melted into Basille. They clung to each other, one kiss quickly followed by another and soft fingers pressing into the exposed cloth of her shirt. They slowed, barely moving at all and just enjoying their shared breath, eyes slipping closed. 

A knock sounded at the door, and they sprung apart, Reinne walking purposefully in the direction of Basille’s bathing chamber before she could get a better idea. 

“Enter!” Basille called, going back to dancing by herself as the door swung open. Reinne couldn’t see the entrance from her position hovering awkwardly by the bathtub, but she recognized Malak’s voice easily as he greeted the queen. “Malak,” Basille said warmly. “You’re a bit early, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, my lady, I was sent to fetch Reinne and I was trying to… is she not guarding you?” 

Reinne cursed inwardly, then walked the few steps needed for him to see her. “I’m here.” 

He gave her a look of confusion, glancing at Basille’s dancing form before he returned his questioning gaze to Reinne. “What were you doing in there?” 

“Looking for intruders,” she said, and he looked at her suspiciously. Rolling her eyes, Reinne sarcastically said, “If you’d truly like to know, Malak, I’d be more than happy to appraise you of the details. You see, sometimes a woman will have--”

“Stop! No, I don’t want to know,” he said quickly, holding up his hands. “The general needed to speak with you. Something about checking the condition of your armor.”

“Ah,” she said, nodding slowly before she turned to Basille, smiling quickly and inclining her head in her and Malak’s usual version of a bow. “Your highness, if you will excuse me.” 

“I wish you luck with your woman’s things,” Basille said, and Reinne snorted at the expression on Malak’s face. 

“Thank you, my lady,” she said dryly, then exchanged a grin with Malak. He’d commented the day before about how glad he was to see Basille’s demeanor brighten. Despite the fact that Reinne couldn’t tell him about her own involvement, it was something he knew they were both happy to see. 

Excusing herself with another nod, Reinne stepped out of the room, greeting the door guards quickly and making her way down the halls. The thought of Basille still filled her head, and she fought back a smile. 

~~~

“Ow!” 

Reinne grinned smugly at Malak in the mirror, brandishing the hairbrush in her hands as he reached up to rub at the spot she’d just smacked with it. “Stop moving, and I won’t have to hit you!” 

“I told you not to fucking brush my--”

“You don’t have a choice, you have to look nice for the banquet!” she threatened, smacking his hand this time as he tried to take the brush from her hand. “Don’t touch my weapon!” 

“See, it’s the fact that you’re calling it a weapon that concerns me.” 

It was the king’s birthday, and quite unlike the queen’s, this was an event the entire kingdom would be celebrating today. Karlen’s home used to pay host to a great group of families in the neighborhood, but even the feast Reinne was so used to would absolutely pale in comparison to what was coming for the palace. 

The servants had been cleaning for days, airing out empty rooms to make space for visiting dignitaries, polishing floors into mirror-like perfection, and arranging flowers at every corner. Reinne had been entertaining herself by stealing from individual vases, assembling ragtag bouquets to sneak into Basille’s room. Presenting them to the queen usually earned her a delighted kiss, so it was well worth a maid in the west wing threatening to whoop her ass if she caught her stealing flowers again. 

All that could be said for that was that she had not been caught. 

Tonight was the main event, the king having spent the day hunting with his friends so that they could return with hungry bellies for a grand feast. Reinne and Malak certainly weren’t invited to eat, but would be expected to stand in their places at Basille’s shoulders, presenting strength. 

Thus, Malak couldn’t be seen looking like the stray dog he usually was. 

She finally got his hair neatly tucked back, tying it into a bun at the base of his neck and securing it in place with her own pins. She’d been ready for hours, her shirt neatly pressed under newly oiled armor, and despite her hair being too short to be tied back, she had taken the time to neaten the curls. It was a good thing she was well-prepared, too, because Malak had shown up an hour before they were supposed to be at the banquet looking like he'd been dragged across the entire castle grounds. 

Honestly, he was like a child, made all the more potent by his sarcastic “Thanks, mom” as she finally released him from his chair. Raising her eyebrows, she abruptly seized his face, smacking a loud kiss to his forehead as he batted her away. 

“You’re fuckin’ gross,” he protested, rubbing the spot vigorously. 

Snorting, Reinne commented, “If I was your mother, I’d beat you for speaking to me the way you do. Which one would you prefer?” 

“I think I’ll take the beating.” He laughed as she brandished the hairbrush again, fleeing to the other side of the room to pull on his shoes. 

Reinne checked her appearance in the mirror, leaning forward to correct a curl that wasn’t sitting properly against its brethren. Neither of them said anything for a few moments, a companionable silence both of them had grown to appreciate over the last year. She valued his friendship, and he seemed to value hers, always remembering to bring back the cinnamon scones she loved so much whenever he went to town without her. They were siblings in arms, perhaps made all the more potent by their common lack of power. 

“Reinne?” 

“What?” she asked, using the back of one finger to press up on her eyelashes. 

“Do you enjoy the presence of men?” 

Freezing, she stared at herself in the mirror, then turned to face him with a bewildered look. “What in the everliving--”

“You’re, what, nineteen? Twenty? And you’re unmarried, and completely unaffected living in close quarters with me. I can’t help but wonder.” 

Snorting, she leaned back against the desk. “Maybe I just don’t see you as a romantic prospect.” 

“What about the soldier I saw bring you flowers last week?” 

“He was just being kind!” she protested, then shook her head. “Maybe I don’t like the presence of men because men seem to think kindness exists only to buy a woman. Then the moment you’re married, you throw such useless currencies out the window to reveal your true nature!” 

Seeming a little offended, Malak leaned back in his chair. “So that’s a no?” 

“No! I mean… no, I don’t have anything against men.” She huffed, tightening a strap in her armor and glancing up at the position of the sun. “But that doesn’t mean it’s my time to marry one.” 

“What of women?” he asked, and she glared at him. 

“We need to get to the banquet. I’ll thank you not to speak treason any further.” 

Standing, he caught her arm on her way past him, holding her back from leaving the room as she huffed in annoyance. Hesitating for a long moment, he searched her face. “You’re my friend,” he finally said. “I’m sorry for asking such a question, but you are my… my  _ best _ friend, even. I hold you close to my heart, and treason or not, that will always hold true.” 

Reinne blinked once, then dropped her gaze, laughing slightly as her heart warmed at the words. “I’ll be sure to tell you if I decide to commit treason, then. Come, we really do need to go.” 

He let her free, and they made their way down the halls, drawing the gazes of the visiting servants they passed. Everyone had heard of Reinne, of course. She was the political symbol who had ended a years-long war, and despite the king’s promises, she was still the only female soldier in the kingdom. 

That morning, Basille had told them that she would be meeting and walking to the banquet with one of the guests, and just to meet her in the banquet hall. Following her orders, that’s where they arrived, quickly spotting her near the entrance speaking with a sharp-featured man with salt-and-pepper hair. 

Reinne’s soul warmed at the sight of her, eyes sparkling and lips painted a soft rouge. Her pale hair was swept up from her face, crown settled neatly on her head, and her gown glittered softly as she moved, the cloth hugging her waist and sweeping out over her hips to brush the floor. Often, Reinne would try to forget that Basille was the queen, but in moments like this, when the other looked so much the part, it was impossible to forget. 

She was so beautiful. Reinne found herself absolutely distracted until the moment Malak bowed low beside her, making her jump and look down at him in confusion. “Lord Serif,” he said, and Reinne abruptly realized that this was the man Malak had once served. 

“Malak!” the man exclaimed heartily, holding out a hand to clasp Malak’s as the latter straightened. “I’m glad you seem to be in good health!” 

“Thank you, my lord. May I ask after my family?” 

“All well, boy! Your rascal of a father joined me for a hunt just last week!” He seemed a very jolly man, despite his sharp face and cut figure, his laughter ringing deeply across the room. 

“Father,” Basille murmured, taking his arm and gesturing at Reinne. “This is Reinne. I know I must have mentioned her in my letters.”

Reinne hadn’t known that her father was coming to the celebration, but bit back her surprise. A few weeks ago, with Basille’s face tucked into her chest, Reinne had asked about her family, and all Basille had told her was that they didn’t much speak. 

“Oh, yes!” he was saying, turning to inspect her as Reinne followed Malak’s earlier bow. “Very inspiring, very inspiring… I’ll admit to being very surprised to learn of you.” 

Rising slowly, Reinne looked at him. “I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t have thought a woman to be capable of the things you’ve reportedly done. You must let me watch you spar against these tested men, I’m afraid I won’t believe it until I see it! With my daughter in your hands--” 

“Father!” Basille looked mortified, glancing apologetically at Reinne before she protested, “She’s not a showman, stop being rude!” 

It was nothing Reinne hadn’t heard before, but it caused offense every time she heard it. Biting back the emotion, she just smiled, opening her mouth and beginning to speak. Before she could finish more than a sound, Malak spoke up. 

“She’s very capable, my lord,” he said earnestly. “I can more than attest to that from the time I’ve served beside her.” 

Reinne and Basille exchanged irritated glances. 

“Off with you,” Basille said to the both of them, gesturing to the raised dais at the end of the room. There was a single long table there, looking out over the rest of the guests, and Reinne was sure that was where Basille would sit when the king arrived. Confirming her suspicions, Basille said, “I will be to the left of the king. He should arrive shortly, so you should wait in your positions.” 

“Your highness,” they said in unison, bowing once more and taking their leave as Basille went back to speaking with her father. Reinne drew more stares as she took her place, standing a few feet behind the queen’s chair with Malak just beside her. 

“I’ll never tire of the male discussion of my female capabilities,” Reinne said dryly, and Malak patted her arm. 

“They’ll come around eventually,” he said kindly. “You’re making a reputation for yourself.” She could practically see her point flying over his large head. Ah, well. His intentions were good, and she knew that he cared for her. 

She changed the subject. “What kind of man is Lord Serif?” 

“An honorable one,” he said, standing up straight. She glanced at him to see a small smile cropping up on his face. “My family has been serving his for generations, and my father tells me that the current Lord is a far sight of a better man than the last one. He’s made improvements to the living situations of his servants, and treats my father and brothers as men worthy of respect.” 

“You said you were considering a courtship with the queen’s sister, right?” she asked, and he nodded, eyes growing sad before she looked away to concentrate on watching the room. 

“Yes. Saralee. I hadn’t yet asked his permission, but she was a sweet and beautiful woman, last I saw her. She has probably been married by now.” 

“Would he have allowed your courtship?” she asked, curious despite herself. 

“Because of my position? I should hope so,” he said with a laugh. “His wife was the daughter of a blacksmith.” 

Reinne hesitated, then her curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, “Why doesn’t the queen speak to her parents, if they are the people you say?” 

“Ah.” Malak’s voice dropped, tone sad as he quickly spoke. “You misunderstand me. The Lord is the one who holds my respect. Lady Serif came to visit just a few days before the queen lost her first child, and was here when it happened. I hear the woman blamed her for the loss. She couldn’t have known the circumstances, of course, but--” 

“Is she here?!” Reinne cut him off, eyes jumping to where Basille was still laughing with her father. Anger flamed up in her chest, and she jumped as Malak smacked her in the arm. 

“Stop glaring like you’re going to set the tables afire,” he hissed, then shook his head. “And no. I don’t think she’s welcome here.” 

“I should think she’d damn well--” 

“When you said you’d inform me before committing treason, this is not the type I meant to hear,” he said, but when she glanced at him, he was fighting back a grin. “Calling a Lady of the court a vindictive bat would be going all too far, I think.”

She snorted, but before she could reply, there was a great commotion at the banquet hall’s entrance, drawing their eyes as the king himself swept grandly into the room. He raised his arms at the applause of his guests, then approached his wife, greeting her father and accepting Basille’s hand as it was presented to him. 

Gracing him with a smile, Basille allowed the king to escort her to their table, the king’s guards taking up their formation beside Reinne and Malak as the royalty took their seats. 

“To the king!” exclaimed one of the visiting dignitaries, and he raised his hands again. 

“Please be seated!” He exclaimed, and Reinne shifted in place, keeping her face expressionless through great effort. “Friends, visitors, we welcome you! Let the celebration begin!” 

With that, servants appeared at every entrance, bringing heaping platters of steaming food to the tables as Tyrrel leaned to his left, grinning expectantly at Basille until she turned to face him, quickly taking a kiss before turning to his plate. 

Basille just smiled, but Reinne’s stomach rolled. She should be far used to it by now, but Basille’s softly shaking fingers made her want to throw something. Such a wonderful woman should not be subjected to such pain from all fronts, and Reinne wished for nothing more than to take her far from this place. Somewhere where a family could be something that supported her through her trials instead of handing her over to a broken tyrant and blaming her for his abuses. 

She wished, for the thousandth time, that escape was a possibility.


	15. Softly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basille so desperately wanted to erase the damage done to her soul. There was a part of her, of course, that knew she couldn’t, but she still wanted to try. Not to mention, there was the feeling that even if it didn’t cure a damn thing, loving Reinne was still something that she would enjoy. She wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless, feel her hands on her bare body and give herself over to this woman’s hold, take the other’s trust in equal measure to what she was giving. Then, perhaps, there would be something in Basille’s life that wasn’t about the king. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: minor discussion of previous abuse, adult themes

The door had hardly closed behind Basille’s night maid before she had crossed the room, plopping into Reinne’s lap and making the other jump about a foot and a half as her eyes flew open. Basille snickered, nuzzling into the curve of the other’s neck. “Were you asleep?” 

“No!” Reinne said quickly, arms going around Basille without a second thought. “No, I was just…”

“Sleeping?” 

“Dozing,” she affirmed, bopping the top of Basille’s head with her nod. Basille pressed a kiss to the hollow of the other’s throat, feeling the vibration of her voice as she continued. “In the case of an enemy, I would have reacted too fast for their eyes to see.” 

Chuckling softly, Basille settled into Reinne’s hold. She could feel her thumbs rubbing softly where they sat, one hand on her hip and the other on the outside of her thigh, just above the knee. The touch was relaxing, a soothing rhythm of gentle care that Basille found herself craving in each quiet moment they spent together. 

It’d been a very long time since she’d wanted to be held like this. She could remember a time when she’d been a very touchy person, growing up with sisters who would press kisses to her cheeks and brothers who had no reservation for tossing her over a shoulder and carting her off to whatever destination they preferred. Even when Tyrrel had courted her, she could clearly remember glowing with his arms wrapped around her, craving his touch in a way that physically hurt to think about, now. 

The feeling had faded quickly after they’d been married, first because of his distance and then because of his cruelty. Even when Halle used to touch her, to smooth her hair out of her face or brush tears from her cheeks, Basille had often shied away. 

As far as she knew, Reinne still didn’t know the extent of what the king did to Basille. She wasn’t stupid, and must have known some part of it, but even without knowing the details, she was gentle with Basille. She rarely initiated touch that Basille didn’t ask for, and when she did, it was a soft kiss or a careful hug. 

When Basille would ask, though? Reinne held her like she never wanted to let go, kissed her in a way that made Basille’s breath come short. Basille didn’t know what she had expected, but it hadn’t been to feel fire burning from the places Reinne would touch her. 

She loved Reinne. The more time they spent together, the truer it became. She trusted her more than any other living person, and if she was going to let anyone fix her brokenness, it would be Reinne. It felt very romantic at times, like a kiss from Reinne was erasing a thousand from the king, like every place on Basille’s body that she touched was being wiped clean. 

Then she would leave, and Basille would be alone, and it would all come rushing back. Perhaps if she was not still in this cursed place, she could at least forget, but the king still came too often, knocking loudly at the door and making her shake in fear. 

Basille so desperately wanted to erase the damage done to her soul. There was a part of her, of course, that knew she couldn’t, but she still wanted to try. Not to mention, there was the feeling that even if it didn’t cure a damn thing, loving Reinne was still something that she would enjoy. She wanted to kiss her until they were both breathless, feel her hands on her bare body and give herself over to this woman’s hold, take the other’s trust in equal measure to what she was giving. Then, perhaps, there would be something in Basille’s life that wasn’t about the king. 

She wanted to be cured of the sickness inside her, but there was something about Reinne that had always drawn her in, and she had no desire to use her. 

Ah, but Reinne wouldn’t protest that. Basille had seen that in her eyes, every time she’d pulled herself back from a hard kiss or slipped her hands in the opposite direction they wanted to go. Reinne may be a woman, but she was a woman who had spent her life with men, and she had that same temptation in her that Basille had seen her whole life. The one Basille was starting to feel for herself. 

“Reinne?” she asked, voice breathless as the hand on her leg smoothed gently over the cloth of her nightgown. Her skin lit up at the brushing contact, and she took a deep breath. 

Humming, Reinne pressed her lips to the top of Basille’s head, murmuring a “Yes?”

“Kiss me?” 

With a grin, Reinne did so, hands coming up to cup Basille’s cheeks and tilt up her face. When she started to pull away, Basille pushed forward, shaking hands moving to unclasp one of the straps of Reinne’s armor. Before she could get another, Reinne let of her face, catching her hands and lacing their fingers together. 

“Basille, I don’t want you to feel obligated--” 

“I do  _ not _ ,” she breathed, kissing her again, then again before Reinne pulled back. She was laughing, and Basille softened at the emotion in her eyes. “I love you.” 

“And I you. A thousand times over,” Reinne said. “I can take my armor off, should you like. I’m happy to sit with you, or join you in your bed if you wish to sleep.” She would often hold Basille until she drifted off, but Basille would always wake to her back in this same chair, armor strapped firmly in place as she half-dozed.

“What of not resting?” Basille asked quietly, letting go of one of Reinne’s hands to comb her fingers through her hair. “Would you join me in my bed, then?” 

Reinne swallowed, and Basille caught a flash of want in her eyes. “I know you are a married woman, Basille, but do you know what you’re asking of me?” 

“Do you?”

“Yes, I believe I do,” Reinne said, then let out a short laugh. “And if you are asking after my experience, I have some. But I do not wish to take any advantage--”

“We are alone. No one is expected until the early hours of the morning,” Basille said, and she turned her body, carefully rising to her feet and beginning to pick at the laces of her nightdress. The top loosened, falling open and exposing a good expanse of her chest as she leaned down to kiss Reinne, lips meeting with an explosion of breath from the other. Pulling back just enough to speak, Basille continued. “I know what I’m asking. Will you come to my bed?” 

“Basille…” 

“Come here,” she said, pulling the other to her feet and manhandling her a little further into the room so that she could step around her. She wrapped her arms around Reinne from behind, holding her tightly for a moment before she began undoing the straps of her armor. “Please, my love. I want this. Do you?” 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Reinne said, voice imbued with an enthusiastic passion that made Basille smile. The armor fell from her shoulders, and Basille set it carefully in the guard’s chair, beginning to help with one of her bracers as Reinne reached for the buttons of her own shirt. “Basille, are you sure?” 

“Without a question,” she replied, tossing the bracer to the chair and kissing her fingers before repeating the process with the other hand. Reinne’s undershirt was the same sleeveless garment she’d worn the first time Basille had seen her training, or perhaps just a copy of the same thing. 

“I am technically supposed to be guarding you, still,” Reinne murmured as she shrugged off the overshirt, holding it carefully between her hands as Basille placed her palms on the flat plane of the other’s stomach. 

“Bring your sword, like you do when I’m falling asleep,” Basille said, smiling up at her. “I will be perfectly safe with guards at the door and you in my bed, no matter what is occurring.” 

Reinne let out a laugh, a clear ring of a thing that made Basille’s head lighten. “I should think I will be a far sight more distracted than when you are falling asleep.” 

Grinning, Basille backed away, sitting just on the edge of her bed and raising a brow. “Then perhaps you should lock the door.” 

“As long as you truly want this,” Reinne said, stepping forward to give her a breathless kiss. “I should like to treat you as a goddess.” 

Basille was extraordinarily lucky, to find herself with this woman. Despite the brokenness of what she wanted, Basille had no doubts she had found a person in a million with which to do it.

“You always do.” 

~~~

The heat of summer passed far too quickly, months flying by with a speed Basille had never before experienced. These were the happiest days she’d had since marrying the king, and even as the true weight of winter hit the kingdom, the warmth didn’t leave her heart. 

A snowstorm had begun the day before, not easing up as the hours passed, and she could see snow falling quickly past her window. The wind was blowing, but she was warm below the thick blankets. Reinne’s head rested on her shoulder, fingers below the blankets running soothingly over the skin of her side. 

Basille’s own hands were busying themselves in Reinne’s hair, trying to sort one curling strand from another. Every so often, Reinne would turn her head, pressing a kiss to her collarbone and laughing at the protests that now Basille had to start over in her sorting. 

More and more, she was becoming a staple of Basille’s life, her presence something Basille needed instead of wanted. She brought a gentleness to their private moments, her love for Basille so clear in her actions that Basille could cry for the impossibility of it. She was her lover, sure, but more and more Basille was finding her to be her companion. 

Even as her guard, standing stoic behind her in public, Reinne had an influence on her thoughts. Malak had complained recently that Reinne had managed to gain the queen’s favor, his tone joking but the question in his eyes being one Basille hadn’t had the slightest clue how to answer. It helped that Reinne was a woman, and she could excuse some of it through Basille wanting to have a female presence in her life. 

Reinne pulled herself up, interrupting Basille’s thoughts to kiss her softly on the lips. “If you wish for me to stay until you fall asleep, you’d best roll over and close your eyes,” she murmured. “The moon is beginning to fall.” 

Glancing back to the window, Basille saw that she was right. She heaved a sigh, cupping Reinne’s cheek and smiling. “I think I should prefer to kiss you until the sun rises.” 

“Mmm…” Reinne leaned in for one such kiss, then another. “You need the sleep, my love.” 

“I only need you,” said Basille grandly. 

Reinne snickered, adjusting to smooth her hand back over Basille’s skin. “Your highness, that is quite untoward.”

“You’re the one with your hands upon your queen.” 

“I think I shall follow with my lips. Here,” she said, lightly touching Basille’s throat before trailing her hand to her ribs. “Then here. Maybe a little bit here--”

Basille smacked her fingers from a place that had her laughing under her breath, then caught the other’s hand, bringing it up to press Reinne’s touch to her lips as she asked, “What about here?” 

Nodding, Reinne pretended to consider the idea, then kissed her deeply, making Basille’s breath come short for a long moment before she was forcibly turning her onto her side. She cuddled into the space behind her and wrapped an arm around Basille’s middle, making her laugh again. “Go to sleep, Basille.” 

Their fingers linked together, Basille sighed in contentment. Reinne was pressing kisses to her shoulders, and she let herself relax into the hold. “I do like when you hold me,” she murmured. 

“Then I shall do it always.” 

Basille could feel the other’s hair against her skin. It was soft, shifting smoothly against her as Reinne settled her face against the back of her neck. Then she grinned. “Is that a threat?”

“Oh, it’s a promise.”


	16. Numbness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinne. Fuck, Reinne had heard. Basille prayed that she wouldn’t do anything stupid in front of the king, that whatever she was doing to make Malak hold her in place wouldn’t bring any harm to her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the trigger warnings. Seriously, this is such a rough chapter, check the end notes if you need the TW

Basille hiccuped, then winced at the pain in her throat. Often, she could keep herself silent through Tyrrel’s visits, but when he’d arrived in her rooms that afternoon, he’d already been angry. He’d ordered Malak from the room with a viciousness that actually made her guard hesitate, and Basille had flinched harder than he had as the king backhanded him across the face. 

She hadn’t been able to stop herself from crying out in pain through nearly all of it, and her body was making her regret it. Wishing for honey to soothe the sting, she shivered, hugging herself tightly as he finally stood. It was cold in the room, but she wasn’t sure she--

There was a thud on the door, followed by a half-muffled yell in Malak’s voice, but Basille couldn’t quite convince herself to sit up, just organizing the spaces in her mind. Tyrrel growled as no intruders appeared, dressing quickly and telling her to shut up as violent, hiccuping breaths started to wrack her body. 

Shakily, Basille forced herself to sit up, intending to ask him for a cup of water before he was wrenching the door open. She froze, then scrambled for her blanket, tugging it painfully to cover herself as Malak appeared before her. He was half-covered by the door, and she was glad to see him do her the courtesy of not looking at her. 

“Explain yourself,” Tyrrel demanded, and Malak gave a quick bow, then stumbled to the side, throwing up an arm. 

“She was under the impression that the queen was being harmed, your highness,” he said in a strained voice, and Basille saw him suddenly turn, hearing the clap of his hand being thrown over someone’s mouth as an outraged cry sounded in a familiar voice. “I will make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

Reinne. Fuck, Reinne had heard. Basille prayed that she wouldn’t do anything stupid in front of the king, that whatever she was doing to make Malak hold her in place wouldn’t bring any harm to her. 

“Oh, we’re done anyway,” the king spat, throwing the door aside the rest of the way and stepping back. “Come in, both of you.” 

Sure enough, it was Reinne that Malak hauled into the room, his hand firmly over her mouth. Basille’s blood pounded hot in her ears as Malak looked at her apologetically, refusing to even glance at Reinne as the king turned to face her guards. 

“It seems that she’s unfamiliar with the queen’s purpose,” Tyrrel said, the anger in his voice fading into something almost smug. “Malak, see that she is taught. Be sure the queen doesn’t take a bath, and keep her under guard.” 

“Of course, your majesty.” 

With that, Tyrrel left, slamming the door behind him, and Basille finally looked at Reinne. She was staring at her in broken horror, and as their eyes met, she stopped straining against Malak’s hold, eyes unable to hold Basille’s gaze. 

She was almost surprised when that made her sad. 

“Reinne,” Malak said, glancing up at Basille before he turned his attention to his companion. “If I let you go, will you stay in the room?” 

She made an affirmative sound, and he slowly released her, hands going to his sides as she sank to the floor, placing her forehead against her knees and taking a shaky breath in. Her face was covered, so Basille couldn’t quite tell, but she thought the other might be crying. 

Unable to stand the nausea any longer, Basille stood on shaky legs, wrapping her blanket around herself and slowly crossing the room to the washbasin. Malak made a sudden movement, and she seized her hairbrush, brandishing it in his general direction as she grabbed the edge of the empty bowl, heaving twice in quick succession. There was nothing left in her stomach, but the sick feeling remained, accompanied by a wracking sob that she could do nothing to control. “Don’t… don’t touch me, Malak. Don’t you dare touch me.” 

Neither of her guards said a word, and she reached for the water jug, dipping a corner of her blanket in it and using it to wipe carefully at her face, ridding herself of the dried tears, sweat, was that blood? It was a long moment before she felt ready to turn around, gripping the cloth she was wrapped in as if for dear life. 

“Malak, can you send for tea?” 

“With honey, my lady?” he asked quietly, and she nodded. Malak glanced down at where Reinne still sat, then crossed the room, pulling open her door and speaking to one of the guards that were now outside. The king usually sent them away when he came, ordering them further down the hall and leaving Malak in their place. 

“I-is it always…” Reinne’s voice was broken, and Basille looked down to see that she had raised her face, looking directly up at her with tear-filled eyes. “I mean… I am so sorry, Basille--” 

“Malak!” Basille called, and he started, turning back to look at her. “The king said to inform Reinne, didn’t he?” 

He looked at a loss for words, then slowly nodded, turning back to send off the guard before he closed the door. “The king is to be uninterrupted in his visits,” he said quietly, avoiding both of their eyes. “After, the queen is not to take a bath, or do anything to clean herself or prevent a pregnancy. She may bathe the following morning if she wishes, but a maid must attend to her. Th-the…” 

Basille huffed, having heard the king repeat these commands often enough that she knew what was next. “The queen may attempt to harm herself,” she recited bitterly. “Thus, she is to be watched at all times until she has bathed, and guards are to keep their weapons strapped into their holsters. Get up, Reinne. And stop crying. The news of the king harming his queen is not new.” 

Malak reached to help Reinne stand, and Basille immediately dropped the blanket, making a dive for her water jug and dumping the whole thing over her head. The water was cold, and she shivered, dropping the basin to the floor and collapsing after it, unable to stop herself from sobbing any longer. 

“Your highness!” Malak said, appearing beside her. He wrapped her back in the blanket, and glanced at Reinne. “I know that you’re upset, but this is not the time for it. Get a towel from the bathing room.” 

Basille struggled for breath as Malak lifted her from the floor, holding her gently and assisting her in walking back to her bed. He helped her sit, then took the towel Reinne handed him, gently rubbing it into her hair. Even when Halle had been alive, he had often helped to clean her up, making sure tea was brought and that she was kept warm until she agreed to get dressed. In the time since, he had been the only one to do it, slowly talking her down from any drastic measures and even going so far as to help her get into nightclothes, at times. 

“What can I do?” Reinne asked, and Basille looked at her to see that she had schooled her expression into one of determination. 

“Can she braid your hair?” Malak asked Basille, and she nodded. Reinne moved before he turned to ask her, climbing onto the mattress behind her and beginning to carefully comb her fingers through Basille’s wet hair. 

There was a knock at the door, and Malak stood, going quickly to retrieve Basille's tea, and as quietly as she could, Basille whispered, “I d-didn’t want you to see it. I know that you knew h-he was… I m-mean, I’ve been p-pregnant twice since the first time he…” 

“I know, Basille.” Reinne said, voice dropping to match her volume. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” 

“D-do you… I-I….” Basille almost didn’t want to voice the question, humiliation coursing through her as another round of sobs started. 

With shaking hands, Reinne reached forward, brushing a stray hair back from Basille’s face before she began to braid. “I think no differently of you, if that’s what you were wondering.” 

“Y-you love me?” she asked, speaking almost silently as Malak turned back to face the room with the tray of tea in his hands. 

Reinne didn’t even pause before she spoke. “Without question.” 

“Your highness,” Malak said, setting down the tray beside her bed and picking up a small bag of ice. “Do you require this?” 

She shook her head quickly, feeling Reinne finish her task and set the braid against her half-covered back. “Use it for your face, Malak. I don’t want you to bruise too badly.” 

“What happened?” Reinne asked, rounding Basille to slide off the bed and inspect Malak’s cheek. 

“I defied a direct order from the king,” he said, and Basille scoffed. 

“You hesitated to obey, Malak. It was not your doing.” 

He laughed under his breath, then began pouring tea. “Reinne, will you prepare the queen a bath?” 

Hesitating, she looked at him with a question in her eyes. “I thought we--” 

“The king is not here now,” he said firmly. “Basille, do you want a bath?” 

Shocked, Basille glanced at Reinne, then back to Malak. “Yes, I do. But Malak, you--” 

“Then you shall have one.” 

~~~

It was the dead of the same night, and Basille watched the slow rise and fall of Malak’s breathing. It was uncommon for him to fall asleep on guard, and she ached to think how exhausting the day’s events had been to force him to leave her unprotected. 

Perhaps it was the continued presence of Reinne, sitting on the floor just below the guard’s chair where he slept, eyes hooded but alert as she stared into a dark corner of the room. 

Basille was warmer inside than she ever remembered being after one of the king’s visits. The rebellious act of a bath had done far more to raise her spirits than any collection of tea and roses ever could, and Malak had even turned his back as she’d bathed, allowing her to wash in any way she would like while still preventing her harm. Now, the adrenaline had faded, and she sighed softly. 

Her eyes were open, but just barely, and they probably looked closed from across the room in the dark. Thus, Reinne jumped as Basille whispered her name, looking over in confusion. Basille beckoned. 

Reinne glanced up at Malak’s sleeping face, then scooted across the floor, coming up onto her knees in order to be face-to-face with Basille. 

Pushing the hair back from the other’s face, Basille cupped her chin. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.” 

Reinne shook her head quickly. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she said in a whisper, matching Basille’s tone. “I’m sorry that I was caught up in my own pain. I should have been helping you.” 

“I’m beyond help,” Basille said, half-jokingly, and Reinne’s eyes grew sad. 

“I’d like to take you away from here,” Reinne said, and Basille laughed under her breath. 

“You can’t. I’m lost, Reinne. I hope I made that clear a long time ago.” 

“You did,” Reinne murmured. “But I’m not sure I believe it.”

Not sure how to respond, Basille went back to stroking the other’s hair, carding her fingers through the waves and enjoying the soft texture. “Do you get your hair from your mother or your father?” 

“My father, I hear,” she said softly. “I don’t have any pictures of him, but my mother had hair straight as a pin and nearly the lightness of yours.” 

“What was her name?” 

“Delilah.” Reinne shifted, leaning her chin against the mattress and watching Basille through her dark eyes. “She was the apprentice to a medicine woman, the same one Karlen found me with.”

“Why did he take you in?” Basille asked, searching the other’s face. 

“I don’t know. He just… asked me to come home with him. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

They just sat in silence for a long moment, Reinne’s breath brushing Basille’s face and her hair parting between strokes of her fingers. “He must have seen something in you.” 

“Perhaps. I don’t know what there is to see in a child. Sometimes I wonder if Karlen was entirely sane.” A soft smile curved her lips. “He was a good man, though. I looked up to him more than I can tell you, and he considered me to be his daughter. We were blessed to be brought together, even if he hadn’t changed my life.”

“Why were you not his heir?” 

“Because his wife disliked me. Basille, are you…”

“No,” she answered the unfinished question. “I haven’t been okay in a long time, and these nights are always rougher than most.” 

“Would you like me beside you?” Reinne asked, and Basille shook her head. 

“Tomorrow. When Malak isn’t sitting right there.” 

“He sleeps like the dead,” Reinne murmured, reaching up to take the hand that was in her hair. “If you should like me to be with you, I’m willing to risk it.” 

Basille turned her hand in the other’s grip, grasping it tightly. “That’s too big of a risk, I think. I’m happy to have you where you are.” 

“Okay,” she hesitated, then pressed on. “I love you, Basille. Nothing could change that.” 

Hesitating, Basille considered her question before she asked it. “How?”

“How do I love you?” 

“How could nothing have changed that?” 

Reinne smiled bitterly, releasing her hand, and Basille went back to her hair. “I already knew what was happening to you, Basille. I’d already decided it didn’t affect my opinion of you. Paying witness to the king’s atrocities serves only to worsen my opinion of him, and to make me all the more determined to save you.” 

Humming quietly, Basille paused her motions. “You have already saved me, Reinne. You bring me happiness in a broken life. When I die, I will have good memories, and that will be because of you.” 

Reinne took her hand again, kissing the knuckles softly before she leaned up, drawing close and waiting for Basille’s response. With a soft smile, Basille closed the remaining distance between them, appreciating the slow kiss before Reinne pulled away. 

“Basille, you are my world. I’ll never stop loving you, so long as I live.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Direct aftermath of sexual assault, all the mental anguish that comes with it. Like, it JUST happened, and the characters are reacting to that. It's horrible, the king is horrible, holy shit


	17. Big Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When I’m old and gray, the king won’t care if I stay or go, Reinne.” Basille murmured. “When I’m free, maybe then we could live as we want.”   
> “That’s a long time to wait.”   
> “But at the end of it, I’ll be with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll motherfuckers ready for a VIBE CHANGE???

Basille hummed, hands on her hips as she looked at herself in the mirror. The dress she wore today was much simpler than usual, almost peasants attire. It was one that served as a quick cover for days that she did not plan to leave her room, easy to change into and out of even if it was entirely improper for a queen’s wardrobe. It consisted of a purple kirtle over a white chemise, and today, she wore it without even shoes. 

She had asked the maid to retrieve it this morning, having no plans and wishing to spend the day with her guard, even if what she told the girl was that she was tired. Reinne wouldn’t normally have stayed with her, on days that she had nowhere to be, but there were Banamoran dignitaries in the castle. Not important enough for them to need to wave Reinne’s presence under their noses, but with enough guards that Byron had asked her to be watched at all times. 

Sometimes, Basille forgot that the king was not the only one with authority in this castle, and she thought some of the people might have followed Byron far more quickly than Tyrrel. 

She could see Reinne in the mirror, sitting in her designated chair with her eyes closed, relaxed back against the cushion with one leg crossed over the other. Her foot swayed back and forth where it sat, her head nodding to a song in her head. For all intents and purposes, she looked on the edge of sleep. 

Smiling to herself, she reached for the sides of her bodice, untying the laces of her kirtle so she could slip the clothing off over her head, leaving her in just her chemise. She tossed the clothing in the general direction of her dresser before crossing the room to the door. Her bare feet padded silently on the thick rug, and when she turned the lock in the door, the loud click made Reinne jump, eyes flying open and hand darting to her sword before she comprehended the scene in front of her. 

“What on earth are you wearing?” 

Basille’s grin grew, and she turned around, picking at the laces at the front of her chemise as she walked back to her bed. “I was too hot.” 

Frowning doubtfully, Reinne relaxed back into her chair, watching as Basille finished opening the front of her dress. She reached behind her head, pulling her hair to the front before letting the chemise fall around her shoulders. One arm crossed in front of her chest, keeping herself moderately covered with the loosened dress, and she leaned back against a bedpost, sighing dramatically. “Ah, what I wouldn’t give for a guard who would serve her queen at the fullest capacity.” 

Reinne’s eyes jumped from Basille’s chest to her face, rolling her eyes with a lighthearted grin. “I grieve for the quality of service, your highness.” 

Pouting, Basille turned around, letting go of the chemise entirely and leaning forward to straighten an imaginary crease in her blankets. When she glanced back, the soft smile was still on Reinne’s face, an expression of faint exasperation accompanying it as Basille straightened. “If you’re too hot, would you like me to open a window?” 

Basille could feel goosebumps cropping up on her bare back at the idea, the faintly chilly room certainly needing no help. She abandoned her game, climbing into the bed and rolling onto her back, one arm thrown over her face. “You’d certainly have to warm me up, then.” 

She heard the chair creak as Reinne stood, then footsteps approaching the bed. She smiled as she felt Reinne’s elbows hit the mattress on either side of her head, a soft kiss being pressed to her jaw. “When I’m serving as your guard, I’m supposed to be actually guarding you, Basille,” she murmured, and Basille snorted. 

“Guard me from the cold of the night, my love,” she said grandly, unblocking her eyes and smoothing her hands across the front of Reinne’s armor. 

“It’s midday.” 

“You make me feel the pleasure of a midday sun. Spark a fire in me.” 

“ _ In  _ you?! Basille,” Reinne said, shifting to wrap her arms around the other’s back and kissing her quickly on the mouth as she laughed. “Not in the middle of the day, when anyone could come to fetch you.”

Basille sighed loudly, allowing the other to pull them both up to stand, but making a noise of protest as Reinne started to let go. She laughed, wrapping her back up in a hug and kissing her again, deeply this time. Breathless as always after such a kiss, Basille groaned, pressing her face into the crook of the other’s neck. “Are you sure? They don’t have the key to my bathing room.” 

“Don’t be too disappointed,” Reinne said, and Basille could hear the smile in her voice. “I am on duty through the night, after all. How could I resist you without that fear of discovery?” 

Basille hummed again, basking in the feeling of Reinne smoothing her hands over her back, clearly not entirely on board with the words coming out of her own mouth. “Mmm. How long until the fear of discovery fades enough to have you in my bed?” 

“Not long, if you don’t put your clothes back on.” 

“Then I’ll be keeping them off.” 

The shaking of Reinne’s laugh made Basille smile, and she pulled back, receiving a kiss on her nose before she took her by the hand, tugging her again towards the bed. Reinne didn’t move, shaking her head, “Basille--” 

“No, no,” she said quickly, grinning. “I’m going to put my dress back on. Is the fear of discovery so much to prevent you from sitting with me? I told the servants to give me the day alone, and that much, at least, I could explain away. It wouldn’t be the first time they caught you comforting me.”

Reinne sighed, but her exasperation faded into amusement as Basille pushed her again towards the bed. “You really should get dressed.” 

Basille picked her chemise up from the floor, throwing it over her head with a sigh and picking up her kirtle. Reinne snorted, holding out a hand, and, confused, Basille leaned forward, holding onto the bedpost so that Reinne could reach her clothing. Gently, Reinne laced up the front of the chemise, securing it with a neat bow before allowing Basille to straighten back up. 

“It’ll bunch up if you don’t tighten it,” she explained in response to Basille’s unasked question. “I can tie up the sides of the other layer for you, as well, once you’re ready.” 

Scrunching her brow, Basille finished getting dressed, tying the sides of the kirtle on her own before crawling into bed beside an exasperated Reinne. “I know how to dress myself.” 

“Do you?” Reinne asked, her tone lightly teasing as Basille tucked herself into her side, wrapping her arms around Reinne’s middle and feeling the other run her fingers through her hair, kissing her temple softly. “Your kirtle’s on backwards.” 

Basille glanced down to see that she was right, swearing under her breath as she wondered if she should even bother to fix it. Deciding it wasn’t worth the effort, she nestled into her place beside Reinne and closed her eyes. “It’s a good thing I was made royalty, I suppose. What would I do without help?” 

Laughing softly, Reinne continued stroking her hair, the slow movement of her fingers comforting in the way few things were. “You’d learn,” Reinne said simply. 

“Mmm. That would be quite the endeavor, wouldn’t it? Me on my own.” 

“You wouldn’t be. I would come with you.” 

“Ah, yes.” Basille knew, when Reinne would speak like this, that it wasn’t hypothetical, and she would be lying if she were to say she didn’t enjoy imagining it alongside her. “Out in the world, together with no help, you to lace up my dresses and make me my food.” 

“I don’t think you understand how commoners live.” 

“Oh, did you think I was bringing you along as something other than my servant?” Basille asked in mock surprise, and Reinne laughed. Basille enjoyed the sound, taking in the soft scent of leather and cloves Reinne always seemed to carry. She would have to ask her sometime, where the smell of cloves came from. “How does it work for the people, if we were to live together among them?” 

Reinne breathed deeply, her chest moving up and down before she answered. “We would live as friends, but I would call you my wife, when the windows were closed and we were alone. Or we could go to Banamore.” She snorted at the absurdity of the idea. “Their goddesses allow the marriage of two women. We could have someone else’s children, someone who couldn’t care for them, and raise them as our own. I could work as a guard, and you… what would you want to do?” 

“I could be a nurse,” she murmured, softly enjoying the fantasy. “Learn to be a healer, work alongside you. I’ve always wanted to know that craft, use it to help people instead of what Damien does.”

“I think I should like that,” Reinne murmured. “Perhaps I could introduce you to the Banamoran rituals. My grandfather was from there, you know.” 

“Is Cerulean one of their goddesses?” Basille asked, and Reinne looked at her in surprise. “I’ve heard you pray to her, when you hold me. It sounds as though you’re asking her for my protection.” 

“Yes,” Reinne said slowly. “She’s the goddess of the sky, and all that lies beneath it. It’s a court of three sisters, her and the twins that watch the earth and the animals upon it. Cerulean watches over us, and she’s the one that hears our prayers. It had been a long time since I actively worshipped, but I don’t… I don’t trust gods that would condemn our love to protect you from a broken king.”

They were both quiet for a long moment, Basille considering the idea. “I think I should prefer your gods.”

“Then we’ll be married before them,” Reinne said. “And have our children by their blessing.”

“If we’re raising children, I'd want a daughter,” Basille whispered, half-hoping that Reinne wouldn’t hear her. 

Her arms tightened, and Reinne stiffened for a moment before she relaxed, holding Basille tightly to her as she asked, “You would?” 

“Yes. I want to have a daughter, and I want to raise her to be… I want her to be like you. I want a daughter who looks up to you, and sees all that she can be, that she can be strong, and that nothing can stop her from bringing happiness to those who most need it.” After she finished speaking, Reinne said nothing, the silence stretching out until Basille added, “And then I’ll be a healer and you can clean our house and change the diapers and work as a guard while I collect herbs in the forest and learn about your sky goddess from the faeries.” 

Reinne snorted. “Sounds like a plan.” There was still something distant in her voice, and Basille saw the question coming before Reinne even voiced it. “Are you sure you won’t let me try?” 

“Yes.” Basille didn’t even have to think about it. “Because that life is a fantasy, Reinne. If we tried to leave, the king would have you killed, and I would be alone once again. Please. This is a life I can live, where the pain is momentary and I can return to your side, even if only briefly. Even if it’s a secret for the rest of our lives.” 

“When I’m old and gray and still a palace guard?” Reinne asked, trying to sound lighthearted even as her voice broke. 

“When I’m old and gray, the king won’t care if I stay or go, Reinne.” she murmured. “When I’m free, maybe then we could live as we want.” 

“That’s a long time to wait.” 

“But at the end of it, I’ll be with you.” 

“I’ll stay by your side,” Reinne promised. “It’s a long time to wait, but I’ll still be here.” 

Basille took a deep breath, tears on the edge of her vision. “I love you.” 

“And I you. Now, and later. I only wish--” 

“Don’t.”

Reinne didn’t seem to know what to say to that, tightening her hold and smoothing a hand on Basille’s arm. “What of being my wife?” 

“A fantasy. You know that.” 

“Not by law, my love,” she said softly. “What of me calling you my wife, when the windows are closed, and we are alone, as I said? A promise, instead of a title?” 

Basille squeezed her eyes tighter shut, fighting a smile. “A marriage without a contract? That sounds close to being a fantasy, as well.” 

“I mean it,” Reinne insisted, hand coming up under Basille’s chin and lifting her gaze to look her in the eye. “Would you be my wife? If only in name, if only to us. I know we could have no ring or ceremony, but I want to belong to you, and you me. I want… I want to kiss you, knowing what we are, what we will someday be. I want you to be able to know that I won’t leave you, that come hell or high water I’ll still be by your side, because lovers may leave, but to be your wife? I think that any god could recognize our right to spend eternity at each other’s sides.”

Basille blinked away the tears she suddenly realized were welling up, leaning up and pressing her lips to Reinne’s before cupping her cheek. 

“I would love that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody wanna explain to me why I don't have a transition chapter between this and the last one? Also, does it make my mistakes any better to have the knowledge that I know how jarring this transition is and did nothing to fix it? This story really needs a second draft


	18. A Lack of Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reinne hesitated, glancing to either side as though to confirm that they were alone. “A fine place for it.” 
> 
> “And a permanent symbol,” Basille whispered. “In a place no bad thing has happened to either of us, where no one could see or take this from us. This way, no matter what happens, no matter what the king does, we will keep this symbol. No matter where I am, I will have a reminder of you.” 

The market was bustling with the crowds of the town, the mid-week trading going in a flurry as merchants shouted their wares and craftsmen argued with their prices. The snows of winter had come to an end, the crisp air of spring clearing their breath and making everything smell of rain. Basille loved times such as these, when she could pass unnoticed among her people. Tyrrel didn’t like it, but hadn’t yet forbidden her from dressing in simple clothes and going to the marketplace, and she figured it would stay that way so long as she didn’t do it often. Not many people had ever seen the queen, after all, so why should they assume that’s who she was? 

Because of this, she had been able to secure Reinne as her only guard, the woman more than capable in case danger did arise, and the market close enough to the castle walls that they could be back into safety in no time at all. 

It was easy to imagine, as she walked, that they were here as equals instead of as a queen and her guard. 

A stall with bright colors lining the back wall caught her eye, and she swerved from the path, leaning over the counter to stare in awe at the bottles and bottles of brightly colored dye. She couldn’t fathom what they were for, with no writing pens in sight, only a collection of needles and bandages laid out on a table behind the counter. 

“Hello, ma’am!” 

She jumped, turning to face the accented merchant, taking a moment to place the voice as being Banamoran. Her eyes caught on the swirling patterns decorating the man’s arms, staring at them in an unspoken question. “What is it that you sell?” 

“I sell tattoos, ma’am!” he said, gesturing between the inks on his back shelf and his own arms. 

“Tattoos?” 

“A Banamoran method of body decoration! With our kingdoms at peace, it seemed only right to introduce the tradition here! Would you be interested in a demonstration?” 

Doubtfully, she nodded, feeling Reinne come to the counter beside her. She glanced over, warming at the smile the other gave her before they both turned their attention back to the man. He picked up one of the many needles laid out on the table, seizing an open bottle of blue ink and dipping the needle in before coming back to face Basille. Opening his palm to reveal a complicated pattern of many circles, he began to prick himself with the inked needle. Occasionally, he picked up a rag on his belt, using it to wipe away the excess color as he went, and Basille watched as another circle joined the myriad on his hand. “So this is what caused the colors on your arms?” she asked, entranced, and the man nodded happily. 

“Yes, ma’am!” 

“It seems painful. Do you become used to the pain, doing it over and over again?” 

“Ah, but that’s just the thing!” He said grandly, and she got the feeling this was what he had been waiting to say the whole demonstration. “They never fade! Only the ink on my hands and my fingers, and even that goes slowly!” 

Thoroughly impressed, Basille leaned forward again, inspecting the needle carefully. “These create permanent marks?” 

He nodded, still smiling, and Basille turned to Reinne. “I need my coin purse.” As Reinne pulled it from a pocket behind her belt, she turned back to the man. “I wish to buy a needle, and a bottle of ink.”

Face falling at that, the man shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s a delicate art, ma’am. One needs training to correctly apply the ink, and--” 

“Then I will pay you to train me. I only require the method to make a simple shape.” 

“It’s simply not possible--” 

Reinne handed Basille her coin purse, and the man stopped speaking, staring open-mouthed as Basille unclasped it, revealing the coins that rested inside. She looked up, staring expectantly as he hesitated. “Impossible, you say?” 

Finally, he sighed. “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement.” 

~~

“What was that about? With the man with the tattoos?” 

Basille smiled at the question, glancing back to see Reinne just a few paces behind her. She had had her tuck the ink and needle away into the same pocket that held her coin purse, and had been surprised that the other had waited this long to ask about it. 

The day had been long, and Basille was pleasantly exhausted, full from a hot meal at a local inn and having much enjoyed watching Reinne interact with the pups being sold in the market. For the first time, she had been able to visit that bakery that Reinne so loved, the baker shooting her a kind smile as they purchased far too many of his wares. Reinne had been right, and they’d been irresistible while still warm. They’d bought enough to bring back to the palace, but Basille had slowly polished off the entire collection, much to her own sadness.

She wished they could have stayed for hours to come, but the sun was beginning to set, and they needed to get behind the palace walls. Now, as they stood just before the first of the guardhouses, she lifted her chin to the sky. “You’ll find out.”

They crossed the drawbridge easily, Reinne lifting a hand in greeting to the gatekeepers. Instead of heading for her rooms, however, Basille turned just after the wall, making her way to the empty gardens. She could hear Reinne’s footsteps behind her, and as they passed the unblooming rosebushes, she heard her slow, as though thinking they had arrived at their destination. 

Basille kept going, however, making a beeline for the small hedge maze at the very center of the gardens. In the summer, there would be more flowers blooming among the walls, but as it was, the greenery still stood tall. She walked confidently between the bushes, heading directly for where she knew a wooden trellis overlapped the hedges, the ivy growing there obscuring the area from the sight of the palace windows. 

Coming to a stop, she turned to face Reinne, holding out a hand and watching as she hesitated. “No one can see us unless they come into the maze, my love. Please, come here.” 

Reinne shook her head in exasperation, taking Basille’s hand and allowing herself to be pulled in for a kiss. “I’m not sure the excitement of the day is leaving you with a clear head, your highness.” 

Basille scrunched her nose. Reinne only called her by her titles when she felt insecure in their privacy. “I promise, no one will discover us here.” 

Shaking her head in gentle exasperation, Reinne kissed her again. “I believe you. Why the detour?” 

“May I have the inks?” 

Reinne retrieved them, pressing the bottle into her hand and holding out the needle. “You want me to give you a tattoo? That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you could keep private, Basille.”

“I can if it’s small,” she said, “and anyway, that’s not all.” 

“Then what is it?” 

Basille smiled, leaning up to take another kiss, murmuring against the other’s mouth, “Marry me?” 

“I thought we had?” Reinne asked, surprised. “I already consider you to be my wife, Basille.” 

“But we have no symbol, no ceremony,” Basille said, and Reinne’s eyes softened. Before she could protest or apologize, Basille continued. “My first wedding may have been grand, but this wedding  _ should  _ be humble. No hand-fasting or priest or crowds of guests. Just you, and I, before your goddesses, with this.” 

She held up the bottle of ink, and Reinne reached out, clasping their fingers together around the bottle. “You had this idea from his tattoos?” 

“I’ve been wanting a ceremony that we could call our own.” 

Reinne hesitated, glancing to either side as though to confirm that they were alone. “A fine place for it.” 

“And a permanent symbol,” Basille whispered. “In a place no bad thing has happened to either of us, where no one could see or take this from us. This way, no matter what happens, no matter what the king does, we will keep this symbol. No matter where I am, I will have a reminder of you.” 

“All right, then.” 

She blinked, not having expected it to be that easy, and Reinne laughed. “Basille, I want to be bound to you. If what you say is true, and we can’t be discovered here, then why should I say no?” 

Basille grinned, taking the needle from Reinne’s grip and brandishing it like a knife. “I’m going to ink my name into your face. Then we’ll see what a binding truly looks like.” 

Reinne snorted, holding out her wrist. “What do you think? A circle, like he taught you?” 

“Yes, but I’d like them to match in placement,” Basille said, “And an arm will be too exposed for me.” 

“Where, then?”

Humming, Basille considered Reinne’s body, looking her up and down before walking around to her back. Brushing her hair aside, she considered the back of her neck, shaking her head but pressing a kiss there, her hand cupping around the curve of her shoulder to keep herself steady. 

“There will be time for that later,” Reinne laughed, and Basille smiled, letting her head rest against the other’s spine as she smoothed her thumb across her back. 

“What about here?” 

“Where your hand is?” 

“Yes. It will be covered by any dress I wear, and the king only sees me from the front. Even if he does see it, though, the placement could make it a natural mark.” 

Reinne reached back, covering Basille’s hand with her own, and Basille could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “I’ll have to take my shirt and armor off to apply it.”

“We should be married here first, then.” 

“I love you.”

Laughing in surprise, Basille wrapped her arms around the other from behind. “I love you too, Reinne. And count myself immeasurably lucky that I should have you as my own.” 

Reinne turned in her hold, wrapping Basille into a tight hug and burying her face into her hair. “I find myself wishing too often that I could have you to myself,” she murmured, “and sometimes forget how truly blessed I am to have you at all.” 

Sniffing back sudden tears, Basille said, “I don’t understand why you stay.” 

“A wedding contains vows, does it not?” Reinne pulled out of the hug, reaching to tilt Basille’s chin up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. “I have many vows to you, and I should hope the goddesses hear them. I promise to stand by your side, to protect you as your guard and to hold you when you feel broken. I may not be able to guarantee your safety, but I want to promise you your happiness. I will never leave you. I promise to be a support, a solid place to lay down your head when life becomes too much. And I vow to love you for the rest of my life, with all of my soul.” 

The tears were running quickly down Basille’s face, now, and she had to choke them back before she could respond, clasping Reinne’s free hand in her own. “Reinne, I swear to stand by your side, just as you stand by mine. I promise to be better for you, to provide the same support that you have always given me. I will be the same place to rest, arms you can count on to hold you, someone to encourage you when you feel the world is against you. I w-want--” she had to pause, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath as Reinne laughed through her own tears, feeling a kiss pressed gently to her cheek. “I want to be with you for eternity, Reinne. And I promise, here and now, before all the gods and on my honor as we are married, that we  _ will _ be together. Fully and truly, someday we will leave this place.” 

“We are asking a lot of the gods, today,” Reinne whispered, voice breaking. 

Basille smiled, then cupped Reinne’s cheeks, pulling her in close. 

“May I kiss my wife?” 

“You may.”


	19. Caught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door creaked, and Reinne froze, listening carefully. So slowly there was no way an intruder could hear, she snaked her hand under her pillow, grasping the knife there at the same time she pulled her arm from around Basille. The door creaked again, and she heard it shut quietly behind the newcomer, quiet footsteps beginning to pad across the room. 
> 
> Her heart was pounding, cursing herself at being so unprepared. Whether this was a servant early to the room or some kind of an assassin, one of their lives were at stake. She couldn’t let it be Basille’s. 

Basille’s soft breaths were brushing against Reinne’s neck, stirring the hair resting there as she softly ran a hand up and down the other’s arm. As best she could tell, Basille had been asleep for about an hour. She usually gave it two before she got up and got dressed, waiting for the other to be asleep deeply enough that she wouldn’t wake when Reinne left. She would stay in the room, of course, fulfilling her duty as a guard, but she certainly didn’t want to be caught naked in the queen’s bed when the servants came in the early hours of the morning to light her fire and heat her bathwater. 

It was the last thing she wanted to do though, especially tonight. Basille’s skin was soft against her own, and she smelled of the flowers she loved. Reinne shifted forward, burying her face into her hair and kissing her softly just below the ear. 

Still asleep, Basille leaned into the touch, sighing under her breath as she moved. Then she rolled over, away from Reinne, and she snickered, scooting forward and wrapping an arm back around her from behind. She loved this woman almost more than she could bear sometimes, and this was one of those times, her heart full to bursting as she laid down another kiss on her wife’s shoulder, smoothing one hand along the lines of her hip. Basille was everything that mattered, everyone Reinne cared about. Watching her in pain sometimes felt like being in pain herself, unable to do anything to alleviate it, and it was moments like these, moments where Basille’s face was clear and soft, that she wished the hardest that they could just… go. 

That dream of living together, raising children, working to make a home and a family, was one that Reinne couldn’t quite let go of. She knew it was a fantasy, that it was nearly impossible and came with a risk too great to try, but she couldn’t help but imagine it. 

To wake up with Basille at her side, to be able to fall asleep in her arms instead of having to leave her bed in fear of being discovered… it made Reinne teary-eyed to even consider it. 

Reinne had never really dreamed of having a family, before Basille. Sure, it had been impossible, but she’d never really… needed it. Karlen’s death had always felt like a distant possibility. A nightmare, really. Something you woke up from and were relieved to find hadn’t happened. 

It was hard to tell when she’d stopped wishing to wake up. There must have been some kind of switch, sometime around finding herself in love, but she’d stopped living in a daze, wanting Karlen to shake her shoulders and pull her from the life she was building. She still missed him, still wished he hadn’t died, but...

She pressed her forehead to the nape of Basille’s neck, pressing another kiss there as she closed her eyes. Wrapping her arm more completely around the other, she held her tightly, being careful not to wake her from much-needed sleep, but wishing all the same that--

The door creaked, and Reinne froze, listening carefully. So slowly there was no way an intruder could hear, she snaked her hand under her pillow, grasping the knife there at the same time she pulled her arm from around Basille. The door creaked again, and she heard it shut quietly behind the newcomer, quiet footsteps beginning to pad across the room. 

Her heart was pounding, cursing herself at being so unprepared. Whether this was a servant early to the room or some kind of an assassin, one of their lives were at stake. She couldn’t let it be Basille’s. 

The footsteps paused, then came directly for the bed, stopping at the edge as Reinne took a deep breath, waiting for just a moment before she rolled quickly, throwing the blankets aside and bringing up her knife hand. She saw a shadow flinch back, dodging the blade, but she completed her roll and landed on the floor. Standing quickly, she brought the knife up again. They gasped, pulling back. She felt the knife connect faintly, nicking their arm..

“Reinne?!” came the whispered hiss in a familiar voice, and she froze, eyes going wide as she realized who stood in front of her. Quickly, she stepped forward, grabbing him by the arm and throwing a hand over his mouth. 

“Why are you here, Malak?” she hissed. He made a sound through her gagging hand, and she cursed herself. Basille, by some miracle, was still asleep, which she confirmed with a glance before shoving Malak across the floor and into her bathing room, shutting the door behind them and locking it, then letting go of his mouth and brandishing the knife. “Make a sound, and I  _ will _ kill you.” 

He looked like he believed her, eyes locked on her face as he made a strangled sort of noise. “Can you put some clothes on?” 

All at once, she realized that she was standing naked and defenseless against what could have been someone sent to kill the queen. What an absolute idiot she was. 

“Tell me why you’re here, first.” 

“You’ve been working long hours with the queen,” he hissed back, smacking the hand holding the knife away from him. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I would ask if you-- will you  _ put that away _ , I’m not going to yell. What the  _ fuck _ are you doing?” 

And here was the base of it all. She had spent so much time dreaming, wishing to take Basille away from here where they wouldn’t have to worry about being caught that she was now entirely unprepared for the inevitability that they would be.  _ Stupid _ . 

She yanked a towel from the rack, wrapping it around herself and tucking in the ends as she considered how to answer. “Serving my queen, same as you?” 

“What do you think I am, an idiot?!” His whispering voice carried something shocked and angry, and she prayed he wasn’t so upset that he couldn’t be reasoned with. “I’ve served my queen by protecting her from assassination! Cleaning her up after every godsforsaken horrible thing that’s happened to her in the past few years! You serve your queen by, what, acting as concubine? You could be executed for treason to the king, not to mention the gods! For fuck’s sake, Reinne, I knew you preferred women, but  _ the queen _ ?!”

A little offended despite herself, she shot back, “I’m not her  _ concubine _ !” 

“Then what are you  _ doing _ ?” Reinne was surprised to see tears growing in his eyes. Whether from frustration, anger, or some combination of the two, she wasn’t sure, but it threw her all the same. “Do you realize the danger you’re putting her in? Iif the king found out, do you know what would happen? Do you have any  _ idea  _ what she’s been through since she came to the castle? You’ve been here less than two years, I’ve been here since the beginning! I’ve seen it! I’ve seen what happens when she rebels, even a little! Now she’s a traitor to the gods?! Both of you! Gods, Reinne, you could be executed!”

“Malak, I’m not some soldier sleeping with his captain’s wife! I  _ love _ Basille!”

“Oh, just let me tell the king, then! He won’t be angry with either of you if he hears you love her, you’re absolutely--!” 

“She’s my wife!” He came to a screeching halt, staring at her like she’d grown an extra head. “Not by law, of course. But I’m not here as a concubine or a temptation or for temporary pleasure. She is… Basille is the greatest love I’ve ever known. All I want is to take her from this place, but she won’t  _ let _ me.” 

He was gaping like a fish, opening and closing his mouth. After a long moment of silence, he asked, “Would you? If you could?” 

“In a heartbeat.”

He sighed, reaching up to rub his face. “If I cared any less for her safety, Reinne, and if you were anyone else, anyone else at all…” 

“I know. Please, Malak.” She took his hands as they dropped from his face, imploring him with everything she had. “Please don’t tell anyone.” 

Muttering under his breath, he snatched his hands away, shoving them into his pockets. “Of course not. I don’t want to see what would happen to either of you if the king found out. But by the gods, do  _ not _ let yourself be caught by anyone else. You have to know how absolutely fucking stupid that was.” 

“I know. Thank you.” 


	20. Poppies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The two of you need to be much more careful.” 
> 
> “Oh, but who would guess it, Malak? It would be against the king’s laws for Reinne and I to be anything more than friends!” Basille asked, then there was a soft knock on the door. He gave her a severe look, but she just grinned. “Enter!” 

When Basille woke, the sun streamed in through the windows, and the bed beside her was empty. She was used to that, and stretched, turning over to see Reinne sitting in her usual chair. She was so beautiful, the sunlight that was streaming in lighting up a stripe across her face. Her hair was just barely getting long enough that she could pull it back, and Basille wished she could run her fingers through it again. Basille started to give the other a soft smile, then noticed the other’s annoyed expression, following her eyes to see Malak leaning against the opposite wall. 

“Good morning, your highness,” he said, tone semi-sarcastic as she stared at him. 

She was still naked, and while the servants never commented on it, she was always careful to be back in her nightgown before Malak’s arrival. The maids seemed to assume that her nakedness was a product of her usual strange ways, but Malak would know better. Malak would question why Reinne would have just sat through--

“He knows, Basille,” Reinne said quietly, leaning back in her chair. 

Basille blinked, glancing between them before she asked, “Knows what?” 

“I came in the early hours of the morning to find you asleep in the arms of a guard, my lady,” Malak said dryly. “What do you think that I know?” 

Reinne rolled her eyes, bouncing her foot before rising to stand. “Let her wake up, Malak.” 

“Are you…” Basille swallowed, watching Reinne cross the room to her before looking back at Malak. “Will you tell the king?” 

“Of course not,” he said, averting his eyes as Reinne gathered Basille’s nightgown, handing it over to let Basille get dressed. Reinne and Basille exchanged a look, and she could tell Reinne was trying to look reassuring, but the worry was still present in her eyes. 

“Why?” Basille asked slowly. “I know that you have no love for the king, but you have love for the gods, don’t you?” 

“You are my queen, Basille. And Reinne is my friend. I have no desire to see you torn apart and killed.” 

Basille tugged her nightgown on, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and shivering as her bare feet pressed to the cold floor. Her heart swelled, temporarily overcome with emotion at the other’s declaration. “Then why are you still here?” 

“Reinne and I have been discussing things,” he said vaguely, and Reinne smiled. 

“He wanted to know how it happened,” she explained. 

Basille nodded, then sighed, reaching up to rub her face. “Thank you for your loyalty, Malak.” 

“Reinne says you were married?” he asked after giving her a nod. “With the tattoos?” 

“Yes,” she said, tugging down the shoulder of her nightgown and turning to show him the mark. He pushed off the wall, approaching slowly and leaning down to inspect it. 

“You were right,” he said to Reinne, sounding relieved. “It’s barely noticeable.” 

“They were meant to look like birthmarks,” Basille explained slowly, wondering how much information Reinne had volunteered. “Nothing that could condemn us, but enough to remember each other by.” 

Malak hadn’t touched her, but she felt it as he pulled away, leaning back against the bedpost and looking down at her for a long moment. “Reinne?” he suddenly said, and she jumped. 

“Yes?” 

“I can take the guard duties from here.” 

Glancing at Basille, Reinne opened her mouth, a protest half off her tongue before Basille gently said, “Go ahead.” If Malak was going to do anything she wouldn’t like, Reinne could hardly stop him even if she stayed. And Malak wouldn't hurt her.

She paused, then blinked, glancing between them once more before she leaned forward, quickly kissing Basille’s cheek. “Summon me if I’m needed,” she said in a quiet tone, and Basille nodded. 

After Reinne left, everything was quiet. Basille looked to Malak, but he was staring at the floor, mouth working in a grimace. Unable to stand the silence, Basille finally said his name. He jumped, looking up at her with something indecipherable in his eyes. 

Finally, he asked, “Is this by your own choice?” 

She didn’t know what to say, just staring at him for a long moment. “Being with Reinne?” 

“Your highness, if you are being coerced or tricked, I want you to know that I would stand beside you. I don’t want to think it of Reinne, but there’s just something tugging on the edge of my mind about all of this. If you are being hurt, she is one person I could protect you from.” 

Basille was already shaking her head. “This is what I want.” 

“Then what is it?” he asked, more of himself than of her, she thought. “Why does this grate on me, make me worry for you further than I even did before?” 

“Because of the danger?” she prodded. 

“Perhaps. Or maybe it’s the gods. I don’t know, my lady. This fills me with a dread I can’t quite describe.” 

“You know that you are more than welcome to call me Basille,” she said quietly, and he sighed. 

“So you have said, your highness. And sometimes I do.” He reached out, suddenly, fingers lighting on her cheek for a split second. “Don’t take my commitment to formality to mean that I do not care about you. I would die for you in an instant.” 

“I don’t want you to do that, Malak,” she said with a frown, and he laughed under his breath before she continued. “And I want you to know that whatever your fears, this is something that makes me happy. It is something that makes Reinne happy too, and I know you care for her.” 

“She is like my sister,” he said. 

“I know. And you can continue to trust her, if it’s my safety that concerns you.” 

“It is, my lady.” His voice broke, and he looked to the floor. “It very much is.” 

~~~

Basille leaned against the windowsill, smiling down into the gardens. The chill outside was starting to fade enough to allow a few flowers to begin to bud, but she hadn’t been able to pay a visit yet. Just within sight of her window, though, she could see Reinne, kneeling on the stone that surrounded one of the flowerbeds. There was already a bouquet growing in one hand, and with the other, she was rifling through a collection of tiny flowers, occasionally picking one to add to her bouquet. 

She paused, tugging her coat closer around her shoulders, and Basille shook her head long-sufferingly. There was no way Reinne could see her watching from her place below, but she should at least know that she was within her sight. She was hopeless, honestly. 

The castle bells began to ring, making Reinne jump, and Basille looked back to see Malak slowly rising to his feet. “Your highness,” he said with a slight bow. “I must go and fetch--”

“She’s on her way,” Basille interrupted, glancing down to see Reinne hurrying towards the palace door with the bouquet tucked below her jacket. 

“Is that what you’ve been looking at this whole time?” Malak asked in exasperation, crossing the room quickly and peering down into the now-empty garden. “What was she doing down there?” 

“I could be wrong, but I think she was collecting a gift,” Basille said, eyes bright in response to his sigh. 

“The two of you need to be much more careful.” 

“Oh, but who would guess it, Malak? It would be against the king’s laws for Reinne and I to be anything more than friends!” Basille asked, then there was a soft knock on the door. He gave her a severe look, but she just grinned. “Enter!” 

Sure enough, Reinne stepped into the room. Malak turned to appraise her, but Reinne just frowned, looking at Basille’s place by the window. “Did you see me?” 

In response, Basille held out her hands expectantly, wide grin unspoiled by Malak shifting his glare back to her. Reinne glanced at him, fighting a smile, then pulled the bouquet from beneath her jacket. Dramatically, she presented it to Basille. 

“Is this for me?” she asked, pretending surprise through her delighted grin as she accepted the flowers. 

“For the most beautiful woman in Saibhadha,” Reinne said cheekily, and Malak smacked her. 

“You’re both lovesick fools, and it will be no fault of mine when you get yourselves killed,” he proclaimed, and they both laughed. Slowly, Reinne edged towards her, both of them staring at Malak as she leaned in. He looked between them sourly. “It’s funny until someone who doesn’t care about you sees it.” 

“No one will,” Reinne said, finally pressing a kiss to Basille’s cheek before she grinned at her partner. “We’re being careful.” 

“You are  _ not _ ,” he sighed, then rubbed his forehead. “Don’t forget that Byron will be here soon. I’m going to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Reinne said with a mock salute, and he huffed. 

As he stomped out of the room, Basille reached up to cup one of Reinne’s cheeks, giving her a proper kiss. “Really, thank you,” she murmured, smiling against her mouth before kissing her again. 

Reinne sighed, arms looping around Basille’s waist. “It’s a small price to pay to see your smile,” she said, and Basille snorted. 

Pulling away, she crossed to one of her empty vases, quickly arranging the flowers inside as Reinne brought her washbasin. Carefully, they filled the vase with water, and Basille stroked one of the soft petals. “I think these are new,” she murmured to herself, but Reinne nodded anyway. 

“Yes,” she said, setting down the basin as Basille crossed the room to her mirror. She placed her hands flat on either side of her own waist, watching Reinne in the reflection as the other continued. “The gardeners added them in the fall, apparently. They didn’t have enough winter blooms. The others are for spring, though.” 

Basille hummed, then returned her attention to her bodice. “I’m glad to see new additions. Reinne, do you think this bodice is too formal for a visit from a friend?” 

Giving her a surprised look, Reinne hesitated, then crossed the room, inspecting Basille’s reflection as her hands settled over Basille’s own. Smiling at the confusion in her expression, Basille let her move their hands as she looked her up and down. Finally, she seemed to give up, just leaning in and kissing the cloth just over where she knew Basille’s tattoo sat. “You are beautiful.” 

“You just don’t want to help me change,” Basille protested, and Reinne scoffed. Instead of responding, she laid her chin on Basille’s shoulder, wrapping her arms completely around her waist. Shaking her head, Basille leaned so that their cheeks were pressed together, admiring the picture they made. “I love you.” 

“And I you,” Reinne murmured, shifting to kiss just below her ear. They were both silent for a moment, then she spoke again. “I didn’t know that Byron was a friend.” 

“Oh, of course! So was Karlen, you know,” Basille said brightly, and Reinne looked at her in surprise. “I didn’t know them well in their military world, but Karlen would always make a point to see me when he would visit the palace. And you must’ve known how Byron was, always tagging along with him.” 

Reinne grinned. “They were two peas in a pod. Byron used to sneak me sweets when he would visit. Mari didn’t like him much, though, she said Karlen’s work should stay out of the house. So he’d only ever come when she wasn’t there.” Her smile widened, and she tightened her hold on Basille’s waist. “Those were the best nights. I was allowed to wear my boy’s clothes, and he’d practice sword-fighting with me in the garden, then stay to eat breakfast in the morning. He...” 

Her eyes blew out wide, and Basille looked at her in confusion. “What?” 

“He… Byron would stay the nights in my father’s room,” she said in sudden realization. “When Mari was visiting her family, Byron would come and have dinner with us, and he would go to sleep with Karlen.” 

Basille’s brows traveled up her face. “They were…?”

“I don’t know for sure, I was a child and I always just thought--”

A knock on the door made them both jump, and Reinne sprang back, her face still slack as she wrestled with the implications of what she’d just realized. Basille took a moment to collect herself, then called for the newcomer to enter, both she and Reinne staring at Byron with wide eyes as he stepped into the room.

“Your highness,” he said grandly, a wide smile making his face light up. Basille shook off her surprise, returning the expression as he crossed the room. As he took her hands, bowing to kiss one, she studied him. He… didn’t fully fit her picture of that type of man, but then again, she didn’t fit her own picture of that type of woman. Seemingly oblivious to her turmoil, he stood upright. “You look very well.” 

“You as well, Byron,” she said, squeezing his hand quickly. “Have you been in Banamore?” 

“I have! In fact, I have brought back a gift for you!” He seemed excited, and she couldn’t help her smile as he pulled away to brandish something that had been tucked inside of his jacket. That was apparently the popular place to store gifts, she thought with some humor, then her eyes went wide as she saw what he held. 

“Are those Queen Anne’s Lace?!” she asked, excitedly accepting a parcel of dried flowers. As she leafed through them, she found more treasures. “And peonies!” 

“I’ll admit that I haven’t the slightest idea, your highness,” he said with a grin. “All I can tell you is that a healer in Banamore sold them to me with the information that they all have medicinal use, but I thought you may enjoy their beauty.” 

“Oh, I do!” Basille leaned up, pressing a kiss to his grizzled cheek before she turned to show Reinne. Without really thinking about it, she grasped the other’s arm, holding up her prize and exclaiming, “I could plant some of these! Look, Reinne, the seeds are intact!” 

Reinne laughed, detaching herself carefully and accepting one of the flowers being held towards her. “They’re very pretty.” 

“They’re more than pretty!” Spinning back to face Byron, Basille grinned. “You said you got them from a medicine woman? You must tell me of your Banamoran adventures!” 

Momentarily, his smile faltered, but he recovered his expression fast enough that she wondered, for a moment, if she’d even seen it right. “Ah, my company was just visiting a few of the old battlegrounds. We had some things we wanted to recover. In fact--” his face grew somber, and he reached back into his jacket. “Reinne.” 

She jumped, looking up at him as he pulled an envelope from a pocket. He held it out, and Reinne gave Basille’s flower back, turning the paper over in her hand. “What is this?” 

“We visited Hillshire,” he said quietly, and Reinne’s face fell. “The site of the last battle of our war,” Byron explained to Basille, but she’d already recognized the name of the place Karlen had died. 

“He… left a letter?” Reinne’s voice broke, and Byron glanced guiltily at Basille. She gestured for him to continue, heart aching for Reinne as she stepped away to arrange her flowers on the dresser. 

“He had a tent,” she heard Byron quietly explain. “We hadn’t been able to go back until now, but we were able to retrieve some of his things. That wasn’t labeled, so I opened it, but I didn’t get beyond seeing that it was addressed to you.” 

“Thank you, Byron. This is precious to me beyond measure,” Reinne whispered. Then, Basille heard her hesitate. “Did… did he leave you anything?” 

Basille could hear the smile in Byron’s voice as he responded, “What makes you think he would have? Yours was the only letter we found, Reinne. I know you rescinded your rights as his heir, but you’ve always been the most important part of his life.” 

They were both silent for a moment, then Basille jumped as a hand clapped down on her shoulder. Byron was grinning at her, and he nodded back towards Reinne. “What do you say we give your guard a moment alone, your highness? I’m sure the general is as good a person as any to escort you somewhere.” 

Basille glanced at Reinne, unsurprised to see tears welling in her eyes as she looked down at the envelope. Slowly, she nodded, reaching for her cloak as she quietly asked, “Could we make a visit to town?” 

“Of course.” 

“Reinne?” The other looked up, blinking her eyes clear and straightening her shoulders. Basille ached to hold her, but opted for the next best thing. “Would you like some of the cinnamon scones from the bakery?” 

With a sad smile, Reinne inclined her head, and Basille’s heart swelled for her. “Thank you, your highness. I would love that.” 


	21. A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I confess a feeling of dread for this upcoming battle. I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but it’s a bit of a tradition of mine, to write you a letter before these things, to give you something to remember me by in the case of my passing. I’m usually very happy to bury it on the battlefield, return to you and Mari alive and well. But today, we are vastly outnumbered, and I feel my soul ticking down to its last moments. The men need me to lead them at their front, and I suppose all that I can hope for is that I’m wrong once again."

As Byron escorted Basille from the room, the letter burned against Reinne’s hand. She’d always wished for this, to have some parting word of comfort from the man who had raised her. Now that the moment was here, however, she almost didn’t want to read it. It was like… if it didn’t live up to her expectations, what was she supposed to do? If it was some kind of mistake, or just some letter talking about inane nonsense… oh, she would still treasure it. 

It’d been so long, it sometimes felt like she shouldn’t still miss him, but how was she supposed to help it? Her friends had been few and far between growing up, but she had always been able to count on him. Karlen had always come home with a warm smile, giving her a tight hug, swinging her up into his arms when she was a child. Even as she grew, getting far too big for such grand gestures, he would still sometimes try. Her ribs still ached for one of his cracking hugs, lifting her a few inches off the ground and making her laugh breathlessly. 

Carefully, Reinne sat on the edge of the queen’s bed, still staring at the paper. She lifted the flap of the envelope, nudged the folded paper up a few inches. Gods, she missed him. Her whole life had been centered around her father, living up to his example, being the person he wanted her to be. The last few years, she’d been terrified she never could be. 

What would he think of her now? 

Karlen had always impressed the importance of the gods upon her, and she’d always thought that if he knew who she loved, he would dismiss her. She’d planned to just… hide it, for as long as she could. Avoid marriage at all costs. But if he and Byron… 

The idea was so foreign. It wasn’t like she had ever asked him. Now, she kind of wished she had. Maybe they could have had more in common than they thought. Maybe he would still be proud of her. 

She pulled the letter from the envelope, unfolding it with shaking hands and staring down at the squished sentences. Mari had always had her read the letters Karlen had sent home, unable to make heads or tails of the handwriting without Reinne’s help, and the ability served her well now. 

_ My Dear Reinne _ ,

Fuck. Fuck, just the sight of her name in his handwriting was blurring her vision with tears. Mari hadn’t let her take any of the old letters, since they were all addressed to the both of them. Reinne hadn’t pressed her on it. She was starting to wish she had. 

_ My Dear Reinne, _

_ I confess a feeling of dread for this upcoming battle. I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but it’s a bit of a tradition of mine, to write you a letter before these things, to give you something to remember me by in the case of my passing. I’m usually very happy to bury it on the battlefield, return to you and Mari alive and well. But today, we are vastly outnumbered, and I feel my soul ticking down to its last moments. The men need me to lead them at their front, and I suppose all that I can hope for is that I’m wrong once again.  _

_ Don’t tell Mari about this letter _ \-- he’d written this in the margin, and she huffed out a teary laugh as she deciphered it.--  _ it would upset her to learn I had written only to you. But she accepted my death the moment I became a soldier, and she doesn’t care for my dramatics. _

Reinne paused for a moment, glancing back at the window. It’d been a long time since she’d considered seeing Mari. She wondered if Karlen had expected her to stay in the house. That maybe his death would make his wife and his ward friends for the first time. He’d been very wrong, if that was the case. 

_ If I am right, I should like you to know some things, _ he continued.  _ First of all, know that I love you. You are my greatest pride and joy. I love my son, and I love my wife, but you hold a place in my heart that will never be filled by anyone else. Your accomplishments bring me happiness, and your laughter lightens my heart. If I am to die, I want there to be no mistake that you are my daughter.  _

_ Second, I want you to know that I want nothing for you more than happiness. Wherever you find it, and whoever you find it with. I wish that I could always be your supporter. But even if I don’t die in this battle, there is always the next, or the one after that. Death is unyielding, Reinne, and you must fight for any happiness you can get. No matter who you may love, or what gods you chose to follow. _

Reinne stared at the paper, eyes wide as they skimmed that section again and again. Strangely, her hands were no longer shaking, but she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. Had he… he must be speaking in a general sense, right? She had given no hint, she knew she hadn’t. She’d been so afraid of disappointing him. 

_ All we can do is to have love within life, for that is the only thing you can carry on to the other world. And I can say with certainty that the love I have for you will be brought with me. I will always be proud of you, and I will always be with you.  _

_ Third, should you choose to fight for it, you are my heir. That title goes to my eldest child, no matter what Mari may wish. But if you do not wish to fight, since I’m sure you will have to, I am still proud of you. The choice is yours, as it always should be. _

_ I love you. I will never stop.  _

_ Karlen _

Tears finally overflowed, and Reinne held the paper gently to her chest. It’d been so long. Why was the pain still so pronounced? 

She wished, not for the first time, for her father to come back to her.

~~~

Hours later, Reinne sat back in her chair, watching Basille follow her maid to the door. As she bade the woman goodbye, smiling kindly, Reinne prepared herself. From the moment Basille had returned with Byron, she’d been giving Reinne sideways glances, clearly worried but unable to say anything in front of the parade of people always coming through her rooms. 

Reinne was honestly glad of it. Even the act of the other handing her the promised bag of scones had nearly driven her to tears again, and it was nice to have a few hours to collect herself. 

As Basille closed the door, twisting the lock and turning to face her, Reinne smiled. “Did you need something, your highness?” she asked jokingly. Basille gave her a long-suffering look, and Reinne’s breath caught with sudden tears. Apparently, she still wasn’t entirely together, but if anyone could understand that, wouldn’t it be Basille? 

She leaned forward in her chair, reaching up to rub her eyes as a sob burst from her chest. Footsteps approached, then stopped, carpet rustling before Basille cupped her cheeks. Reinne looked up to see the other kneeling in front of her, tears in her own eyes as she smoothed her thumbs over Reinne’s skin. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, and Reinne nodded. 

“Y-yes, actually. Just… o-overwhelmed? He--” she laughed through the tears, then reached for Basille, encouraging her to stand up before she pulled the other down into her lap. Basille wrapped her arms around her, planting a kiss at the side of her head as Reinne buried her face against her shoulder. “Karlen would apparently write me letters before his battles, in case he died, then he’d bury them when he didn’t. There was never a chance to bury this one.” 

Basille didn’t say anything, fingers carding through her hair in a silent signal to continue. 

“It’s been almost  _ two y-years…”  _ Reinne whispered. “It feels like I shouldn’t still miss him so much.” 

“What did he say?” Basille asked, voice soft. The vibration carried from her throat to where Reinne’s head sat, and for a long moment, Reinne just focused on that. 

“That he’s proud of me, no matter who I love or where I find happiness,” she finally said, and Basille’s hand paused in its soothing motion. 

“Did he know?” 

“I didn’t think so?” Reinne answered, still confused. There wasn’t much she could actually do about it now, and she wasn’t sure why it seemed to matter so much. “But maybe he knew more about me than I thought he did.” 

It was a moment before Basille replied, seemingly searching for words. “I think a lot of fathers do.” 

“It wouldn’t entirely surprise me,” Reinne admitted. She hesitated, then sat up straight, considering Basille. “He… he named me his heir. In writing.” 

Basille blinked, then leaned back into her, seeming to be unwilling to maintain distance between them. “Weren’t you his heir before?” 

“Yes, but… well, he’d just had a son. Karlen had declared me his heir, but there aren’t many courts in Saibhadha that would have believed it. And it would have been a fight against Mari. But this could…” she reached up, patted the place where she’d tucked the letter. “It would make it irrefutable that it’s what he wanted. And with the status I have now, I could actually win that fight.” 

She couldn’t see Basille’s face, but she could hear the uncertainty in her voice as she asked, “Do you want that?” 

“Gods, no.” She didn’t. The fight had been impossible, but even if it hadn’t been, she’d never wanted to make that Karlen’s legacy. He wouldn’t have wanted Reinne and Mari to be at odds. Reinne had always kind of thought that he was under the impression that they tolerated each other, but… “I think that Karlen was pretty unaware of just how much Mari and I hated each other,” she explained. 

“His wife?”

“Yeah. They didn’t think they were ever going to be able to have children. I think Karlen saw me as a gift, but Mari always saw me as… proof of her failure, I suppose?” Reinne sighed. “Karlen wouldn’t have wanted me to fight for the title of heir if it put the rest of his family on the streets, and Mari would never accept help from me. She’d take Adam and condemn him to a hungry life just to spite me. I don’t want that.” 

“Adam?” Basille asked gently, and Reinne smiled. She didn’t talk much about the life she’d once had these days, just as Basille didn’t discuss her family with Reinne. Now, though, she felt the stories running through her mind, pushing to be shared. 

“Karlen’s son. I was beginning to think of him as my little brother.” Her heart ached at the thought of him. She’d been so excited when he was born, looking forward to the adventures they’d have together. “Mari tried to keep him away from me, but he was Karlen’s too, and Karlen wanted us to be close.”

“He would have been lucky to have you,” Basille said, shifting in Reinne’s arms to press a kiss to her chin. 

Reinne smiled, looking down at the other. “Someday, I hope to be able to know him.”

“If Mari’s stories don’t make you sound like a cursed toad,” Basille supplied, and Reinne snorted. 

“I am a cursed toad,” she declared, throwing her arms under the other and pushing herself to her feet. She nearly tripped, almost sending them both to the ground, and Basille gasped and clung to her as Reinne laughed. Quickly, she steadied them both, carrying Basille bridal-style to her bed and putting her down with care. “And you are an angel, sent to restore me to myself.” 

Consideringly, Basille reached for her, tugging her down for a quick kiss before she looked Reinne up and down. “It didn’t work.” 

Scoffing, Reinne stood up straight, ignoring Basille’s laughter to stretch her arms above her head. It’d been a long day, and she could feel exhaustion pulling at her as she glanced out the window. The sun had set, and the stars were beginning to sparkle in the sky. 

“Will you join me?” Basille asked, drawing her attention back in as she crawled beneath her blankets. As if to accentuate the question, she lifted a corner of the sheets. “I want to hear how you were turned into a toad.” 

Reinne smiled, reaching for the straps of her armor and glancing again at the sky. “Perhaps for a few hours.” 


	22. Loss of Subtlety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basille squeezed her eyes shut as Reinne stroked softly through her hair. “It makes me afraid to find happiness,” she finally admitted, the core of her fears shooting through her chest like an arrow and making her breath come faster. She didn’t want to be left in this place, and she certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in pain. But it seemed so impossible, that she could feel love when it wasn’t singled out as the only good thing left. 

Basille traced her thumb over the soft curve of Reinne’s lips, absolutely enamored with the shapes of her face. They’d stayed awake for a long time, Reinne telling her stories of Karlen and his son and her childhood, the soothing rhythm of her voice nearly sending Basille to sleep. But she’d stayed awake, tucked into the other’s side until she went silent, gentle kisses being pressed to her hair before, suddenly, Reinne’s breathing had deepened. Basille had looked up in surprise to find her fast asleep. 

Reinne was usually very careful not to do this, the consequences of them being found too terrifying to risk. Basille could only imagine the kind of turmoil she was in to be this exhausted. Thus, their roles had switched, Basille entertaining herself by studying the other and keeping watch. She knew that when Reinne woke, she’d be angry with her for not waking her up, but she just couldn’t bring herself to break the peaceful expression on her face. 

There was no doubt that Reinne was beautiful, but there was a soft swell in Basille’s heart as she watched her. The curve of her nose, the sharpness of her jaw, they all came together to contribute to a face that a master might carve from clay. Oh, and what Basille might have paid to have that carving for herself. 

She glanced over her shoulder, taking in the sight of the moon dropping in the sky. With a sigh, she returned her gaze to Reinne. Her fingers continued their explorations, finding a slight dent in her cheek and smoothing her thumb over the tiny imperfection. 

It was strange to think of her as her wife. It was something she liked, and something that seemed to make Reinne very happy, but it was confusing. Being married had never been a thing of happiness for Basille, but this was. It was hard to equate the two. 

Glancing back again, she huffed. The passage of time was her greatest enemy, it seemed. She didn’t want to break this moment, one of quiet contemplation. It was nice, having time to herself while simultaneously enjoying the comfort of companionship. She knew very well she’d never get Reinne to do this again, but it would be too great of a risk to let her sleep any longer. 

Gently, Basille propped herself up, leaning in to kiss gently over Reinne’s cheeks. It took a moment, but Reinne huffed, confusion evident in her opening eyes before she caught sight of Basille hovering over her. She started to smile, then jumped, looking down at herself. 

“Did I fall asleep?” 

“Yes,” Basille murmured, settling back into the other’s hold. Swearing under her breath, Reinne looked out the window, and Basille smoothed a comforting hand over her arm. “It’s okay, my love. I kept an eye on the time.” 

“I’m sorry you had to stay awake,” Reinne said, sounding frustrated with herself. “You could have gotten me up.” 

“I don’t need the sleep. I have plenty of time for rest, and I enjoyed spending the time watching you.” 

“Watching me?” Reinne asked, an edge of humor in her voice. “Keeping an eye out for trouble?” 

“You are beautiful,” said Basille, grinning as Reinne rolled her eyes in disbelief. 

“You’re exaggerating now.” 

“Like unto a goddess,” was all she said, but Reinne still snorted. Her fingers lit under Basille’s chin, lifting her face into a careful kiss. Basille deepened it easily, but they broke apart after only a few moments. Shifting her lips to Reinne’s neck, she murmured, “Malak threatened to come in early today.” 

“Oh, he would, the killjoy.” Reinne sounded like she was making a face, and Basille laughed against her. “I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to convince Byron to completely switch me to day guarding.” 

“He tried,” Basille said cheerfully. “Thankfully, Byron is susceptible to my feminine wiles.” 

“I think you just remind him of his daughters,” Reinne laughed. 

Basille scrunched her nose, propping herself up again to look at the other. “Malak will keep trying, though. I told Byron that I preferred to have my female guard for the times I was most often changing my clothes, but he’ll come up with some excuse that will outweigh that.” 

“I suppose I will have to treasure each moment with you,” Reinne responded with a smile. 

Pretending offense, Basille asked, “Were you not already?” 

“You are the love of my life.” Reinne’s voice went soft, face relaxing as she reached up to smooth a thumb over Basille’s cheek. “In any life. I should hope I remember everything we say or do together, for it will send me to my death with happiness.” 

Basille didn’t know what to say to that, tears welling in her eyes before she carefully lay back down. “There will certainly be no death, or I will be very angry with you.” 

“Ah, we wouldn’t want that.” Reinne kissed her nose, then rolled over with a groan, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and sitting up as though it was a thing of great pain. Laughing, Basille reached out, dipping her fingers under the hem of the other’s shirt. She smoothed lightly up her spine, and Reinne sighed in contentment. 

As Basille pulled back, Reinne stood fully, retrieving her armor and beginning to strap it into place. Watching her with hooded eyes, Basille felt the whirling of her mind begin yet again. “Reinne?” 

“Yes, my love?” 

Her heart warmed, but she pressed on. “Do you think we were always meant to be lovers?” 

Pausing, Reinne considered the question. “There were a lot of things that could have changed the course of fate. I would certainly like to think so. Even if I had met you as Karlen’s ward, I think we could have been friends.” 

“Tyrrel would never have allowed that,” Basille said quietly, and Reinne’s brows came together. 

“Why do you ask?”

“Sometimes I don’t think I understand what love is.” It was said under her breath, but she could tell that Reinne had heard her by the subtle tightening of her shoulders. She was quick to clarify. “I mean no hurt by that. I have no doubts about you, only myself.” Reinne was the one spot of happiness left in her life, burning brightly and warming her broken soul. But what if she hadn’t been? What if her lot had been one of kindness? What would she have thought of Reinne, had she been loved already? 

“What I feel for you…” Reinne said, tightening the last strap of her armor as she chose her words with care. “It’s like looking to the sky, seeing that the sun is out after a week of rain. You warm my sadness, make it seem tolerable, and you take my happy moments and make them brighter. I think that’s love. Is that what you feel?” 

It was an apt description, but it did nothing to soothe her worries. “Yes. And if that means that I love you, then I suppose that’s all I need.” 

Reinne stepped forward, leaning over the bed to brush the hair from Basille’s face. “But?” 

“You said you would love me in all your lives,” she explained, cheeks reddening in shame. “But if you had come into mine when it was a thing of happiness, I’m afraid it never would have occurred to me.” 

Sadness in her eyes, Reinne pressed a kiss to her forehead. “There’s no shame in that,” she murmured. “But this is the way we’ve been brought together, isn’t it? I think that means that this is the way we were always meant to love.” 

Basille squeezed her eyes shut as Reinne stroked softly through her hair. “It makes me afraid to find happiness,” she finally admitted, the core of her fears shooting through her chest like an arrow and making her breath come faster. She didn’t want to be left in this place, and she certainly didn’t want to spend the rest of her life in pain. But it seemed so impossible, that she could feel love when it wasn’t singled out as the only good thing left. 

“We’d figure it out,” Reinne said gently. “If we left this place, we would have to learn a whole new way of living, but that’s not so bad.” 

“It’s terrifying,” Basille whispered. 

“Less so when you won’t be alone.” Reinne gently encouraged her to look up, pressing a soft kiss to her lips and looking determinedly into her eyes. “Love is not easy, nor will it ever be. But it’s worth the struggle. No matter what happens, you will always be worth it to me, and that is something that will never go away. In spite of pain, in spite of memories and a world that’s been cruel. Never stop fighting for your happiness, Basille, but I’ll be there to fight at your side.” 

Letting out a shaky exhale, Basille smiled. “You are my happiness.” 

“I love you, and I’m glad of that. But you’re not broken.” She saw through her far too well, Basille thought, and Reinne’s mouth quirked up into a smile as she seemed to read her mind yet again. “You’re allowed to be happy for yourself, and you’re never going to lose the ability to love. Do you care about me?” 

There was no question about that. “Of course.” 

“Then that is your love. No matter what else tries to take it from you, that is all you need. That’s all I’ll ever want from you.” Reinne gave her one last kiss, then stood up straight, smiling down at Basille in a way that made her whole body warm. “This is something infinitely precious to me, and I’m prepared to fight through anything to make it work.” 

Basille truly was blessed, wasn’t she? “I should count myself lucky to join that battle at your side,” she said, and Reinne’s smile widened. 

“Then our enemies will stand no chance.”

~~~

Reinne’s armor was made of only a few pieces. There was a metal band across her chest, framed by the dark brown leather that made up the rest of the protection. Emblazoned across the back was the crest of the Saibhadhan royal family, and the straps that connected the back to the front were the same dark brown as the rest, held by golden buckles. She had the other basic pieces that all the palace guards had, greaves and bracers and a sword belt, but what interested Basille was the very bottom edge of the chest piece. 

The leather dropped to frame the very bottom of the other’s waist, leaving a few inches exposed between that and her belt. Usually, this was not something Basille paid attention to. That was a space usually covered by one of a few darkly colored men’s shirts, cut just barely too big and tucked into Reinne’s pants in a way that made it gather between the two pieces of leather, effectively obscuring any shape she might have. 

They were on their way back from the kitchens, Basille having been summoned to resolve an issue with the servants. It wasn’t often she was needed, but sometimes problems came up that the lead maids and butlers couldn’t solve themselves. When Reinne had arrived to escort her downstairs, Basille had immediately noticed this outfit change, and now that their duties were done, she was finding herself quite distracted by it. 

Reinne seemed to have found her way to a tailor, because she was wearing a new shirt in a rich blue that was hugging securely to the curves of her waist. 

Now, Basille was quite apt at self-control. Normally, she would have held back any comment or action until they were left entirely alone. It was making her breathing come faster, even thinking about it now. The problem was, the Banamoran ambassadors had arrived nearly a week ago, a larger company than had visited in months, so it was not often that Basille and Reinne were left alone. On top of that, Malak, his intentions probably for the best, had finally succeeded in taking a great number of Reinne’s night watches. Basille knew for a fact that when they arrived back at her room, there would be more than one maid waiting for them, and suddenly, she could stop herself no longer. 

“Reinne,” she murmured, slowing to a stop. The other turned, the action pronouncing the curve of the hip that Basille’s eyes kept bouncing down to. 

They had just passed a familiar hallway, and Basille backed up a few steps, gesturing for the other to follow her as she rounded the corner. This was the hall of kings, portraits of past royalty lining the hall between intermittent doors. It was not often that guests were placed here, and Basille knew there wouldn’t be any now. She may be a joke of a queen, but she still knew this palace well enough for that. 

Still seeming confused, Reinne followed her down the hall and around another corner, encountering a short stretch of hallway that, as Basille had suspected, stood completely empty. As they found themselves alone, Basille reached for the damned shirt, touching the cloth lightly with the tips of her fingers as Reinne looked at her doubtfully. 

“This doesn’t seem like a good idea,” she murmured, but Basille could see a shift in her shoulders, inching just slightly closer. 

“No one comes here,” Basille breathed, leaning up and brushing Reinne's lips with her own. “This hallway stands empty to all but a few maids, and there will be none for a while.” 

With an explosion of breath, Reinne cupped her jaw, kissing Basille soundly and taking a step forward as she took a step back. Basille’s back hit the wall, and she groaned. Her hands went back to the cloth of the shirt, and she pulled away just long enough to ask, “Is this new?” 

Reinne laughed, and something evil glinted in her eye. “I requested a better fit with my new wardrobe. It seemed apt to look my best.” 

“Oh, you do,” Basille grinned, then leaned back up, enjoying their shared breath as Reinne’s quiet voice lit up the air around her head. 

“We need to be careful,” she said, and Basille scoffed. 

“I believe the word you’re looking for is quick,” she teased, and Reinne laughed, pressing another kiss to her mouth. 

“Basille, if I could have you now, I already would. But we cannot--” 

“Your highness,” a voice sounded from the other end of the hall, and they leaped apart, Reinne’s hand jumping to her sword and Basille’s clutching together in front of her stomach. 

A few feet from them stood the leader of the Banamoran ambassadors, and Basille cursed herself. How hard would it have been, just to step backwards through a door? “Karline,” she said, straightening her shoulders and inclining her head. “Forgive me, I have not yet had a chance to greet your party of ambassadors.” 

They had only come face to face a few times since that initial meeting, on the day Reinne had come to the palace. Karline didn’t often come personally, usually running her operations from Banamore. Between that and the fact that Tyrrel often kept Basille far from court proceedings, there hadn’t been much of a chance to speak in all that time. 

Karline had a soft, smug smile on her face, hands clasped behind her back, and Basille’s heart hammered. There was no way she hadn’t--

“Forgive me, your highness,” Karline said, returning her bow before she slowly approached. She glanced quickly at Reinne’s blank face, and her smile grew. “I was taking a turn through your halls, and I came to see the portraits of the king’s predecessors.” She gestured at the portraits lining the walls. 

Basille swallowed, giving a quick nod. “They are quite impressive.” 

With a quiet laugh, Karline looked again at Reinne, then back to Basille. “You have nothing to fear from me, your highness. I believe my wife would be opposed to any negative involvement on my part. I’d much prefer to keep her happy with me.” 

Half sinking with relief, Basille nodded. Beside her, Reinne did the same, face flooding with a smile before she pulled it back and forced her face to go blank again. She really was awful at schooling her emotions. 

Basille had heard that one of the Banamoran women had a wife, but it had only been through rumor, and she had had no idea it was Karline. It made the woman more impressive in her eyes, that she could look Saibhadha’s king in the eye and demand that change be made. 

“May I?” Karline asked, holding out an arm. To Basille’s nod, she looped her elbow with hers, escorting her slowly down the hall of paintings. “I find myself curious, I must admit.” 

“About what?” Basille thought she knew, but wanted to volunteer nothing more than she already had. Despite the things they apparently had in common, Karline was still a high-ranking member of an opposing court. Even if she did not tell the king, all information was useful information. 

“What of your husband?” 

“Ah. My husband is… well enough,” Basille said carefully. She could not present a weak front between them, but could not give the impression that Tyrrel could ever be allowed to know of this. She glanced back to see Reinne following them slowly, her face still impassive. “My… the king is unaware of my indiscretion, Karline. I would ask that it is kept so.” 

Karline hummed, nodding slightly. “I should think it will be.”

“Thank you.” 

“May I ask something of you in return?” 

Basille’s heart sank. “You may ask.” 

“There are rumors about your husband, my lady. We have had very little luck in their confirmation, but I think I should take this opportunity to ask about their truth directly from the source.” She stopped walking, turned to face the both of them. “Banamore stands proudly as a kingdom that values its subjects as equals. Men and women alike are to be treated with respect, and we do not wish to support a kingdom run by someone that fits the rumors we have heard.” 

“Rumors?” Basille asked, voice faint.

“I will be direct. It’s said that the king does not treat you with that respect, your highness, and now I find you in the arms of another. Is this a relationship born of love between you or of a certain disapproval of the king’s rumored...actions?” 

The question hit Basille like a blow to the stomach. She was struck, suddenly, with the realization that this was the exact moment Halle had died trying to give her. She could tell Karline, and she could tell her right here and now. Banamore would withdraw, and they…

They would what? Steal a queen? Even if by some miracle they were willing to risk themselves to save  _ her _ , what of Reinne? What of Saibhadha? Basille wasn’t the same naive child she had been when Halle had died. Then, she had been stupid enough to believe that the king would let her go, with no retaliation. That somehow, her own safety was worth a shattered treaty.

Saibhadha could not afford another war.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reinne’s shoulders straighten, but was relieved to see the other look to her for direction. Finally, Basille spoke, choosing her words carefully. “I love Reinne. Quite dearly, and I… It is love. That’s all.” Behind her, Reinne stiffened, but she ignored the reaction. “The secrecy comes not from fear of the king but from rejection of my people’s gods. They are not quite so forgiving as Cerulean and her sisters, but the law forbids the worship of your goddesses, and for the queen to display it would be ill advised.” 

Surprise blossomed in Karline’s eyes. “You know of our lady Cerulean?” 

“I do,” Basille said, with a soft incline of her chin. “And I hold her dear, as my own protector. She does not condemn a love that I hold most important. I think you might understand that.” 

Karline hummed, then looked up. Basille followed her gaze, holding back her frustration at the sight of Reinne’s stricken expression. “Something to add, Reinne?” Karline asked, and she jumped, taking a deep breath and attempting to straighten her face. When she didn’t immediately respond, Karline softly prodded, “I have been most impressed by you, even before this. I value your input.” 

“I… Ma’am, I have been a traitor to the Saibhadhan gods since I was a teenager.” Reinne’s voice scratched in her throat, and she glanced quickly at Basille before continuing. “My love for the queen bears no connection to any other person, and I have worshipped Cerulean and her sisters all my life. I stand by the words of my lady.”

With a soft sigh, Karline looked between them again. “If either of you remember anything you should like to pass on, my door is always open, as well as my mind. I want peace for our kingdoms, and I want power for your women. No man, not even the king, should stand in the way of that goal.”

Basille tore her gaze from the calculated blankness of Reinne’s eyes, looking back at the dignitary. That was bold, even for the conversation they had just had. To let it pass would be to present weakness. “That is bordering on treason.” 

Karline just watched her, the smug smile from before returning to curve her lips. “As is your love. My offer stands.” 

She was right, and they both knew it. Basille got the feeling that their conversation had confirmed something for Karline. All she could hope was that it was something that would not come back to hurt her, or anyone she loved. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	23. What a Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You are only betraying your kingdom through your silence. I name your king an abuser, a rapist and a murderer. Do you deny that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big warnings for death, violence, threats, all kinds of fun stuff

Basille ran her fingers softly over the dried petals of the poppies Byron had brought her a few days before. They really were beautiful, richly red against the wood of her desk, and the other flowers were splayed around it to create a dried garden of sorts. She'd found her interest growing the more she'd looked at them, remembering how he'd mentioned the flowers having medicinal properties. He'd said it almost off-handedly, as though she'd have absolutely no interest in that aspect of them, but she couldn't help being curious. Maybe she could ask Damien--

The doors burst open, startling her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Reinne closing the door quickly behind her. Her chest was heaving, breathing quickened like she'd been running, and her eyes were filled with a sort of wild panic that had Basille rising slowly from her seat. 

Malak, hand on his sword in his guard's chair, huffed in annoyance. Before he could say anything, however, Reinne explained, "The king requires your presence, Basille. All three of us, but it was you he asked for." 

Basille blinked slowly, still confused as she stared at the other. "In his rooms?" 

With a visible flinch, Reinne shook her head. "No, in the throne room. The…" she hesitated, glancing at Malak before returning her gaze to Basille. "The Banamorans have demanded an audience."

Basille swore, the blood draining from her face as Malak stood, looking at her in shock. "What's wrong, your highness?"

"Oh, that damn woman--" She brought a fist down on her desk, cursing her own stupidity more than anything else. 

Reinne cringed, explaining quickly as Basille scooped her herbs into a pile, still swearing under her breath. “The lead ambassador, Karline, she… she found Basille and I--”

Now it was Malak’s turn to swear, cutting Reinne off and looking as though he’d very much like to hit something. “Oh, so you’ve been being very careful, huh?! You fucking idiots.” 

“There’s no need to rub it in,” Basille said, shooting him a withering look. “I fear we may be facing punishment enough.” 

At that, the anger in his face dissipated, and he looked at Reinne. “Do you have a plan?” 

“A plan for what?!” she asked, letting herself fall back against the door. “What could we possibly do?”

“We may not have to do anything,” Basille said, gathering her skirts and crossing the room quickly to take Reinne’s hand. Letting out an explosion of breath, Reinne pulled Basille into her side, holding her tightly as Basille continued. “We don’t know for sure what the Banamorans have to say. Let’s not give up before we’ve begun. I don’t believe Karline to be vindictive, or to wish us harm.”

Reinne and Malak exchanged doubtful glances. 

“Either way, we’ve wasted too much time already,” Reinne said slowly. She started to pull away, stopped by Basille’s hand on her arm. “What?”

With a sigh, Basille leaned up for a kiss, ignoring Malak’s scoff. “It’s going to be okay, my love,” she murmured against Reinne’s lips, then pulled back. Ignoring the doubt in the other’s eyes, she retrieved her crown, settling it onto her head and allowing Malak to straighten it before gesturing towards the door. “Well? Let us face what comes.” 

The walk to the throne room was spent in silence, Reinne and Malak trailing at Basille’s shoulders as she walked with her head held high. It was like Reinne had said, even if the worst should happen, even if Karline intended to reveal their secret, there was nothing they could do. Basille was used to that feeling. If nothing else, at least she could walk into this with hope. 

As they arrived at the wide, gilded doors of their destination, Basille nodded to the guards before them, waiting for their entrance to be announced before stepping into the room. She swept inside, accepting the bows of the dignitaries as she took her place at the king’s side. Reinne and Malak stood behind her chair, and without sparing her a glance, Tyrrel gestured at their guests. He was clearly annoyed, and the reason became immediately apparent as he said, “Well? The queen has arrived. Would you care to explain your demands?” 

Karline took a deep breath, eyes darting to Basille before she took a step forward. Behind her, her company of dignitaries closed ranks, standing tall in support of their leader. Then Karline’s shoulders straightened, and she declared, “The terms of our treaty have been violated.” 

Eyes narrowing, Tyrrel leaned forward in his seat. “Saibhadha has not--”

“Saibhadha is not to blame, Tyrrel. You are.” 

The room went dead silent, even Basille flinching back at her use of the king’s first name. Behind her, Malak let out an audible gasp, and Basille willed her guards to hold their tongues.

“Excuse me?” Tyrrel said, voice a low growl that Basille recognized all too well. 

“The treaty drawn by our kingdoms states that you are to be a capable ruler to your people,” Karline said, voice growing in assurance with every word. “Banamore sees your signature upon our agreement and declares you as unfit.” 

Tyrrel’s thumb tapped slowly upon the arm of his throne, and without really thinking about it, Basille leaned away. His face was clear, but that was so much more terrifying than if he were shouting. Basille looked at Karline, taking in her straight shoulders and hard expression. Did she know what she was doing? 

Seeming to sense the eyes upon her, Karline looked at her again, this time holding her gaze as she said, “Your highness, Banamore is a kingdom founded on equality. Its citizens and its royal family have come to the decision that we would rather die as a whole than allow a broken king to sit upon the throne of our ally. We strive for--” 

“You will cease this, and leave my palace,” Tyrrel said, beginning to raise a hand for the guards before Karline shot him a withering look. 

“I am not speaking to you. From this point onward, Banamore entreats only with the queen.” 

Basille’s heart dropped to the bottom of her chest as everyone looked at her in shock. She knew she was expected to dismiss the assertion, to direct the power back to Tyrrel, but the words wouldn’t come. She didn’t want this! This was the last thing she had wanted. How did Karline not know how entirely powerless she was? 

Tyrrel said nothing, apparently as speechless as Basille. She could feel the anger pulsing from him, coming in waves, could only imagine the punishment that was in store for her. 

Karline took another deep breath, redirecting her attention to Basille. “We have heard too many rumors from the people of your kingdom, your highness. Whether you confirm or deny them, Banamore knows them to be true, and will break our treaty. But if you so choose, we will stand by your side in ascension to the throne.” She glanced up, looking to a place over Basille’s shoulder, and Basille knew she was looking at Reinne. “However you shall choose to rule.” 

Goddesses curse her. Curse her for pretending to care what happened to Reinne. Basille was not so weak, so  _ stupid _ , as to believe that she would be allowed the throne, or that the appeal to her emotions meant anything more than Banamore’s gain. Shakily, Basille stood, holding back the confused mess of anger and fear that was swelling in her stomach. “This is my kingdom. I will not betray it.” 

“This is  _ my _ kingdom,” Tyrrel growled, finally gesturing for the guards. They were stopped almost immediately by Banamore’s own, spinning to face them with their hands on their weapons. 

Paying no mind to any of the movement, Karline advanced towards the thrones, ignoring Tyrrel’s outraged exclamation and taking Basille by the hands. “You are only betraying your kingdom through your silence. I name your king an abuser, a rapist and a murderer. Do you deny that?” Basille tried to speak, but Karline continued. “I know you are in pain, but from what I have heard, you have kindness and strength beyond your years. You must realize that by allowing this to continue, it opens the whole of your kingdom to the disease that your men perpetuate. It is through your words that your kingdom can be saved, and that your people may realize that their lot is  _ not  _ normal. Through you, the women of this kingdom can fight to live the lives they deserve. So I ask again, your highness. Do you deny that Tyrrel, broken king of Saibhadha, has committed these abuses towards you?”

Tyrrel shot to his feet, drawing his sword and seizing Basille by the arm. She didn't look at him, staring at Karline as her mind whirled. There was something in her eyes, something earnest and terrified, that made her pause before immediately dismissing it. Maybe… maybe Banamore had no intention of fulfilling their promise to give her the throne. 

But did that even matter? 

“Leave now, or your lives are forfeit,” Tyrrel said, voice carrying across the entire room. No one moved, and Basille resisted the temptation to look back at Reinne. Was Karline right? Could Basille be enough to change things? It had to be more complicated than that. But if Tyrrel was no longer king…

“An abuser?” she said, voice faint. Tyrrel’s hand tightened in its hold, nails digging into her skin, but she hardly felt it. “No, I do not deny that.”

In one smooth motion, Tyrrel stepped forward and swung his sword at Karline. Her body collapsed, and even over the sudden commotion from the rest of the room, Basille could have sworn she heard the  _ thump _ as her head hit the ground. Blood began to pool, and Basille stumbled back in horror, automatically reaching for her guards before she was yanked back into Tyrrel. Slamming his sword into its sheath, he kicked Karline's body down the steps towards her companions as he called, "Capture them! No one leaves without my orders!" 

With that, he pulled Basille behind him before pushing her, stumbling, into the room behind their thrones. As the door slammed, Basille retched, catching her balance on the wall. Tyrrel seized her by the hair, yanking her to stand up straight and slamming her back against the same wall she’d been using to steady herself. She threw her hands up over her face, but he grabbed her wrists, slamming her back again. This time, she saw stars as the back of her head connected with the stone. “Please--!”

“Do you know what you’ve done?!” He shook her, and she retched again, dizziness making her stumble into him before he shoved her away. Faintly, she recognized the advisory room, with its huge table, a map of Saibhadha painted across the surface. Tyrrel grabbed her chin, roughly turning her face to meet his eyes. “I don’t think you understand your position, Basille. With the war against that godsforsaken country back in our lives, I will have no reason to continue your freedom. I can lock you in your rooms, take from you as I will, and there will be no one to care! And yet you defy me?!” 

Basille choked back a sob, but anger burned through her fear, leaving her with an uncommon burst of courage. What could he do now? Hurt her? He was going to do that anyway. Basille had known, from the very moment she’d confirmed the rumors, that she would face consequences. There was no taking it back now. “You’re a coward.” 

“ _ What? _ ” His hand tightened, and tears came to Basille’s eyes. 

“You’re a coward! A fucking awful excuse for a man who can do no better than to cause pain and terror and death. My life is already one of misery at your hands, Tyrrel, and you’ve made a grave mistake.”

When he replied, his voice was deathly cold. “Have I?”

A smile jumped to her face, and she met his eyes without flinching. She hadn’t done it for herself. She’d done it for every woman like her, every woman in this broken kingdom with a man who thought he could hurt her. She loved her kingdom, but under Banamore? Maybe some of them could finally be safe. “You’ve left me with nothing to lose. Do as you like, see if it changes a  _ damn _ thing.”

Tyrrell just stared at her for a long moment. Then, to her utter confusion, he started to laugh, voice ringing out through the small room. “Nothing to lose?” he said, hand loosening from her chin as his eyes lit up with amusement. Basille felt her smile slowly start to fall. “You stupid bitch, do you think I haven’t noticed your little romance?”

Her breath stopped. 

Tyrrel’s grin widened at the expression on her face, then he took her by the shoulder, turning her around and pushing her into the wall by her front. She heard the metallic slide of his knife coming out of its sheath, but in the same moment that the fear rushed back in, she felt a tug on her dress, then a rip as he used the knife to split one of the back seams. Instead of putting the knife away, however, he pressed the tip of the blade to the very spot she knew her tattoo lay. 

“At least it was a woman,” he growled, and she pressed her forehead against the cold surface of the wall. “You knew your purpose, and even if the gods will damn you to the underworlds for your sin, I let it go. That’s the  _ kindness _ I showed you.” She cried out as the knife pierced her skin, feeling a drop of blood beginning to trail down her bared skin. 

“I-I don’t know what you--” 

Tyrrel scoffed, pulling the knife back and shoving her away. “Don’t play games with me,” he said as she stumbled back, trying to keep her dress up enough to cover herself. He couldn’t know. How could he know? Had Malak--? “You and your  _ guard _ , hidden in the hedges where you thought no one could hear you. ‘Oh, Reinne, someday we’ll leave this place’.” His voice took on a mocking, high-pitched tone, then he laughed again. “What, did you think you were clever? You thought you’d won? You thought I was stupid, didn’t you?!”

He advanced towards her, and she stumbled away, holding up a hand. “N-no--”

“And here I was, thinking it was harmless. You could call her your wife all you wanted, so long as it was my son you were bearing. But I see now, it’s made you think you were  _ strong _ .” It was said mockingly, and as he reached her, she jumped, but all he did was grab her by the hips, pull her in. Softly, he kissed her forehead, running his fingers through her hair. “Now I see how wrong we both were.”

“Please…” she said falteringly, reaching up to place a shaking hand on his chest. “I-If I’m broken, why not let me go?” 

“What? To live against the gods? You’re  _ mine _ , Basille. You know how I love you, don’t you remember? Why would I let you go?” His hands tightened against her, and she blinked back tears, breath shaking.

“What do you want from me?”

“Perhaps we can arrange something,” he said quietly. His voice was too soft, unsuccessfully hiding his mirth, the bastard. “I think, if our Banamoran visitors were to know that you stand by my side, I could be convinced to spare your traitor.”

He was lying. She was confident in that. This was nothing but a display of his power, that she could submit, and he would  _ still _ take everything from her. 

“But...my dress--”

“Then I supposed you’d best be  _ very _ convincing,” he said, voice soft.

But what other choice did she have? 

“Yes, your highness.”


	24. Sobs of the Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story makes me very sad   
> Here's a second chapter for the night :)

As Tyrrel pushed Basille through the back door, Reinne nearly followed, only Malak’s hand on her arm keeping her from signing her own death warrant. Even so, she stepped right up to the door, chin raised and eyes filling with tears as she heard Basille cry out from inside. Malak took up position on the other side of the door, both of them slowly turning and appraising the chaos that filled the room. 

The guards the Banamorans had brought were nothing in comparison to the forces of Saibhadha. The king had armed the room as befitted the council, but more soldiers poured in from the hall, quickly dispatching the defenders and bringing the Banamoran dignitaries to their knees. Reinne knew many of these men, but not a single one looked at her or Malak. Apparently, they knew better than to expect their assistance in this matter. 

Beside her, Malak drew his sword, pressing the point gently into the floor as they heard another cry from inside the room. When Reinne looked at him, his face was hard. He glanced at her, the grim set of his mouth echoing her own expression. 

Almost in unison, the soldiers of Saibhadha drew their weapons, standing behind the dignitaries in practiced formation. Reinne had grown up the daughter of the general. She knew very well from Karlen’s stories what came next for these visitors. 

Her eyes dropped, meeting the accusing gaze of a woman with hair almost as light as Basille’s. She was surprised to see no fear in her expression, only burning anger directed straight at Reinne herself. 

Guilt began its slow trickle down her spine. 

What could she be expected to do? It had been the best they could offer, not joining the fight. Now? All Reinne could think of was to whisper a prayer to the goddesses she knew they shared. Cerulean protect them, but they were gone. They must know that. Their lives were only their own as long as the king allowed it. 

Then, the woman’s gaze shifted, and Reinne followed the look. Karline’s body still lay in the center of the room, blood pooling in a wide circle. Despite her fear, despite the apparent stupidity of the woman’s actions, Reinne couldn’t help a striking admiration. 

Karline was dead. Basille was being hurt. Reinne ached for their pain, but she couldn’t stop herself from appreciating their bravery. She knew she wouldn’t have been able to stand before the king in such a way. She couldn’t help but wonder if it would be worth it. If Basille’s influence would make a difference, if her admission would spread. This kingdom could change. Perhaps, in a perfect world, even Basille could be freed.

She was startled from her thoughts by the door swinging open, emitting a shaking Basille. Her dress was ripped, cut down the back to expose her bare skin, and she was clutching her hands over the bodice to keep it from falling, but she advanced past Reinne without a second glance. At the scene before her, she paused, spine stiffening. 

A hand settled on Reinne’s shoulder, and she jumped, looking up to see the king himself. He wasn’t looking at her, despite his grip, but as she followed his gaze, she saw Basille turn back to look at him in confusion. 

Her eyes immediately went to his hand, fear flashing into her eyes as she looked up to meet Reinne’s. Then she looked at the king, and slowly, he nodded. 

Basille took a deep breath, turning back to face the dignitaries. “Let them be executed,” she said, voice shaking. “They have dared to question our king.” 

The swords of the soldiers raised, and the woman Reinne had noticed before lifted her chin in defiance. 

Then Tyrrel’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and he said, “Cease.” Everyone went still, and she looked up to see a satisfied smirk crossing his face. “Please, Basille. We must not jump to such drastic actions.” 

Basille looked at a loss, the fear in her eyes fading some as he let go of Reinne to step forward, settling into his throne and looking carefully down at the dignitaries. Glancing at Malak, Reinne bit back her own confusion, approaching Basille slowly as he did the same. “Your highness,” Malak murmured, and Basille shook her head. 

“My lord?” She asked, voice breaking before she cleared her throat. “They have questioned your judgement, threatened war upon our kingdom. I wish only to see justice in your name.” 

“Ah, it is just a miscommunication,” he said, raising a hand in a gesture to release the dignitaries. The soldiers stepped back, and one of the men rose slowly to his feet. 

“What happened to you, your highness?” he asked, voice hoarse with fading fear. 

“Me?” Basille asked faintly. Then she forced a laugh, gesturing to her dress. “Oh, weak stitching, I’m afraid. I’m somewhat clumsy, and I… tripped into a chair. The king saved me from the fall, but the gown wasn’t up to the task.” The dress couldn’t have been more clearly sliced open, but Reinne fought to keep her face clear. The dignitary was less successful, glancing towards the king with an expression of disgust. 

“Banamore does not rescind their declaration,” he said. “Every one of us in this room knew the risks of coming, and we will not bow before you in fear of our lives.”

Basille stiffened, but Tyrrel just laughed. “I would expect no less. I’m afraid my queen isn’t much for court matters. You must excuse her insistence on your death. Basille?” 

“I apologize greatly,” she whispered. 

“Have you any further words on the matter of the treaty?” the dignitary asked, and Reinne again found herself in admiration of these people’s bravery. 

“I think not,” Basille replied, tone lighter as she forced it upwards. “That is the jurisdiction of the king, and I hope that my words will be taken with no seriousness.” 

“The words of a woman mean nothing in these matters,” Tyrrel said. “If that renders our kingdoms incompatible, then let it be so. Let us excuse my queen, and we will attend to a message for your royal family. Perhaps, even if we cannot be allies, we can avoid the toils of war.” 

The dignitaries hesitated, but Basille inclined her head, curtsying quickly to the king before gesturing to Reinne and Malak. She advanced across the room, and as she passed the Banamorans, the woman on the end of the line reached out, grasping at her hand and murmuring something Reinne couldn’t hear. 

“No,” Basille said. “You will entreat with the king.” 

With that, she pulled away, exiting the room without a glance back. The three of them made it all of ten feet around the corner before she slowed to a stop, leaning heavily into a wall and choking back a sob. Malak stepped forward as Reinne glanced up and down the halls, making sure there was no one to witness as she reached for Basille’s hand. Shrugging off his coat, Malak wrapped Basille in it, helping her to cover the gaping parts of her bodice as Basille started to cry in earnest. 

“He knows” she sobbed, abandoning the wall to lean into Reinne. “The king knows. Y-you have to…” 

Malak was staring at her in shock, and Reinne’s mind whirled. “What?” 

“He’s known about you since our ceremony. H-he just let it happen. Said he didn’t care because you didn’t interfere with m-my purpose...you can’t--” Her legs suddenly gave out, but Reinne caught her easily, heart pounding in her chest before she set her mouth in a grim line. 

“Then I suppose I can show some impropriety,” she murmured, twisting to lift Basille into her arms. Basille’s face settled into her neck, and, ignoring Malak’s incredulous look, Reinne gestured down the hallway. “Lead on.”

Reinne hardly noticed the stares of the servants they passed, Basille’s hand tangling into her hair leaving them with as many questions as were whirling through Reinne’s own mind. He had known? And he had allowed it? There had been no sign, no reason to fear--

The guards at Basille’s door parted before them, faces she recognized looking at her incredulously as Basille pressed a tearful kiss to her collarbone. Malak pushed the doors open, letting them through without a word to the confused witnesses. As the door shut behind them, more kisses fell to Reinne’s neck and shoulder, anywhere Basille could reach as Reinne carried her to her bed. 

“What are you going to do?” Malak asked, voice breaking as Reinne set Basille gently on the blankets. Basille refused to let go of her, still crying, and Reinne finally kissed her in return, cupping her cheeks gently as she knelt in front of her. 

“Nothing.” She said, blinking hard. “There’s nothing to do.” 

“N-no, Reinne, you have to go,” Basille insisted, and Reinne shook her head. 

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to,” Malak said.

“I won’t! After what happened today? Are you kidding?” Reinne pulled back from Basille, turning a glare on him. He looked at a loss for words, confusion and grief warring over his expression. 

“He’ll kill you.” 

“Then I suppose it’s my time!” She hadn’t meant for that to be a shout, but Malak flinched back, staring between her and Basille, who had fallen into a new round of wordless sobs. 

“And what will that do to her?” he asked quietly, and Reinne let out a huff of frustration, feeling Basille slide off the bed and closer into her arms. “Reinne… look at her.” 

Basille shook her head against Reinne’s throat, clearly trying to calm down enough to speak. “Y-you c-c-can’t die for m-me, R-Reinne, please, y-you can’t--”

Tears gathering in her eyes, Reinne said, “I can’t leave you alone, Basille.” 

“She won’t be alone,” Malak insisted. “I’ll be here, I’ll take care of her. I’ll even get messages back and forth between you if you want. But you can’t stay here.”

“Th-the king said, if I cooperated, h-he’d let you live, but he was l-lying,” Basille said, still holding her tightly but her sobs beginning to calm. “Y-you won’t make it a week.” 

“I…” Reinne’s head bowed, and she pressed a kiss to the top of Basille’s head. “I promised to be by your side. I made a vow--”

“‘With all of my soul’,” Basille interrupted. “That's what you said. You vowed to love me, with all of your soul. That's the most important promise. I can’t watch you die.” 

Fingers alit on Reinne’s shoulder, and she looked up with tear-filled eyes to see Malak crouching beside them. “I’ll leave you to your goodbyes. Don’t come to our room. I’ll pack your things and bring them to that bakery you like.” 

A thousand protests ran through her mind, that she wasn’t going, that she  _ couldn’t _ go, she had nowhere to run, no one to-- then Basille pressed her face further into Reinne’s skin, and her heart broke. “Thank you,” she choked out, and he nodded. 

“I’ll wait there,” he said, starting to stand. “So save your goodbyes.”

Reinne hardly noticed the door closing behind him as Basille leaned up, pressing kiss after kiss to her mouth as Reinne’s chest seized with a sob. “Basille--” 

“I love you so much,” she said, pulling back just enough to look into Reinne’s eyes. “So,  _ so _ much. I could never forget you, I hope that you know that.”

Wildly, Reinne said, “Come with me.” 

Basille just laughed through her tears at that, leaning in to kiss her again, then again and again until they were both breathless. “You are the greatest love, the greatest happiness I will ever have,” Basille said as Reinne pushed away the tears in her eyes. “But you need to go.”

“I’ll come back. I  _ will _ come back.” 

“When we’re old and gray, as we always said,” Basille murmured, her voice thick. 

“Far before that,” Reinne promised. “I’m not leaving you in this place.” 

Basille just cupped her cheek, pressing a kiss filled with dark finality to her lips, and Reinne grieved for the doubt in her eyes. She didn’t believe her, and why should she? It was an impossible promise. 

“I love you,” Reinne whispered. “You’ll be in my heart as long as it’s beating.” 

Thumb stroking back and forth over her skin, Basille smiled. It was a broken, teary mess of a thing, but Reinne committed it to memory. 

“I love you too. Please go.”


	25. Numb, Tired, Sad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t want to be happy,” Basille sighed. “I just want to stop feeling at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge TW for the same things the rest of this story has had, careful with this one.

Basille had been thinking quite a lot about the nature of hope, and how much more painful it became when it was crushed. The memories of Reinne used to be something to hold onto, but now she was pushing them desperately away, their warmth making her pain burn so much hotter. Hope was not to be found here, and the more she wished for it, the more it fled. 

The king’s summons grew more frequent, and Basille was an idiot for letting herself depend on someone who could never have stayed. 

She was laying on her side, tears dripping down her face and onto the crumpled sheets below. Tyrrel had tried to get her to stand, once he’d finished, but she’d barely heard him. With a scoff of disgust, he’d left her to dress himself, but now he’d returned, standing beside her with anger rolling from him in waves. 

“You need to move, Basille. You can’t stay in here.” 

She didn’t respond, and he grabbed her, yanking her up to stand, but she half-collapsed back to the floor, his arms the only thing keeping her from falling. As was apt, she supposed, he let go, and she hit the floor, shaking. Huffing in annoyance, Tyrrel walked away, and Basille sobbed. She wanted to obey. She desperately wanted to leave this room. Her body just wouldn’t, so she laid on the soft carpet, shivering with cold and fear and something brokenly empty. 

“Get this out of my rooms before I return,” she heard Tyrrel say, and Basille curled in on herself. 

His footsteps retreated, but  _ still _ , she couldn’t relax. There were hands on her shoulders, encouraging her to sit up, and she let them move her. Looking up, she saw one of the king’s guards, looking at her in pity. The emotion did nothing to move her. She remembered this man. Once, he’d been the one to hold her down as Damien killed her child. 

“Your highness? I must get you dressed.” She didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, and he sighed, glancing back to the door. “Can you get her personal guard? He’s down the hall.” 

She was laid back to the ground. 

After a few seconds, running footsteps approached, and Malak’s thin frame came into view. She watched him yank open one of the king’s drawers, pulling out a thick blanket before he returned to her. “I’m going to wrap you in this,” he said, doing so. She let him, limbs limp, but at least able to sit up. Abruptly, Malak scooped her into his arms, tucking her head into his shoulder and turning to face the gathering of guards hovering in the doorway. “Well? Let us through.”

She didn’t have much of a recollection of the trip back to her rooms, only that by the time they reached them, Malak’s shirt was soaked with tears. Gently, he laid her in her own bed, then knelt on the floor within her reach. “When you’re ready to take a bath, I can help you.” 

Basille was quiet for a long time. Unmoving, Malak watched her, the pity in his eyes shifting further into fear the longer she didn’t respond.

“Do you think she’ll find happiness?” she finally asked, voice cracking. 

Malak didn’t have to ask who she meant, relief at her movement flooding his expression. “You’ll see her again, Basille.” 

She blinked, pulling the blanket tighter around herself and staring blankly at the empty guard’s chair. “I’m not going to live to be old,” she said, and his face fell impossibly further. 

“You will. And you  _ will _ be happy.” 

“I don’t want to be happy,” Basille sighed. “I just want to stop feeling at all.” 

He just looked at her at that, sadness in his eyes. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Basille got the feeling he meant something much bigger, but-- 

“Some tea?” 

“I’ll have some brought.” 

As he stood, all she could do was hug her pillow and cry.

~~~

Basille drew her knees to her chest, eyes drifting closed as she breathed in the fresh air from her window. The flowers were blooming, their perfume so strong she could catch a whiff of it all the way from here. She wished she could see them, the idea of a walk through her gardens making her heart clench with how much she wanted it, but she would have to make do with this faint scent, and the bouquets that were brought to her rooms. 

The first few days of her imprisonment, Malak had brought the flowers, but as the king’s orders of seclusion stretched on and on, she had feared his intentions might be misconstrued. Even after she’d asked him to stop, though, he had told her servants to continue the delivery. Sometimes, one of the maids would approach her at the window, curtsying deeply before asking which flowers she would like today. Basille would smile, beckoning the girl closer before pointing out the blooms that had caught her eye. 

Since Reinne had left, the only escape Basille had from her rooms was when she was summoned to attend to the king. He’d grown more angry each passing day, his treatment growing ever more painful until she was sure she’d rather be trapped in her rooms altogether, never to leave again. Still, the walk through the halls was some respite, and Malak always waited with the king’s guards. 

She was no longer constantly attended, with Malak as her only guard, but her door was kept firmly locked, men in place outside so that she couldn’t think of leaving. Tyrrel had never explicitly said so, but she knew he was punishing her. For her outburst at the meeting, for Reinne leaving, she wasn't sure. 

For all she knew, Reinne had already been captured. 

Shaking her head, Basille opened her eyes, staring accusingly at the white wood of the windowpane. Such thoughts were growing more common. Malak had promised to bring her messages, and it’d been weeks. He had heard nothing. It would be quite like the king, to have Reinne in his prisons, slowly withering away where Basille could do nothing to help her. She could already imagine it, finally being allowed out of her rooms, only to be taken to the dungeon, forced to see Reinne’s withered corpse. Her eyes welled with tears at the thought of it, and she shook her head again. 

There was nothing to be done. All Basille had was hope. 

With a sigh, she turned away from the window, swinging her legs to the floor and stretching her arms above her head. As she stood, she felt the warmth of the sun on her aching back. She was growing stiff, bruises mixed with inactivity all growing worse the longer she lived in this prison.

Reaching her dresser, she sifted through the bouquet that lay upon it. She’d taken it from its vase earlier, intending to rearrange the blooms, then had promptly been distracted by the sunlit window. They were going to wilt, though, if she didn’t--

The door whipped open, and she jumped, looking up in shock to see Malak shutting it quickly behind him. Then he turned to face her, and she gasped. 

“What happened?!” she asked, dropping the flowers to hurry across the room. His cheek was split, and she hesitated before touching the bruise blooming from his eye. There was another bruise across his other cheekbone, and she gasped again as she caught sight of dried blood in his hair. It took her a moment to realize his expression, a huge smile standing in juxtaposition to his beaten face. “Malak?” 

“The king,” he said, voice bright despite its painful rasping. “He wanted to know where Reinne went.” Basille stared at him in confusion, mind beginning to rush with guilt. Malak didn’t deserve to be beaten because of her infidelity. She knew he would likely deny it if asked, but this was her fault. Taking a deep breath, she nudged him towards her washbasin, shaking fingers dipping a cloth into the water. As she went to dab at the blood in his hair, however, he lightly touched her shoulder, smile softening. “Basille, I’d hazard a guess that his enthusiasm for me to provide that information means that he doesn’t have it. He hasn’t found her.”

The realization rushed over Basille like a carriage, and she breathed out a sigh of relief. “Oh,” she whispered, hand dropping to her side. She’d done it. She’d gotten away. How, Basille had no idea, but she’d done it. A smile started to brighten her face, and Malak returned the grin. “He’s lost, once again.”

“He certainly has.”

Still smiling, Basille reached up, beginning to wipe away the blood. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Malak laughed, wincing as she moved the cold cloth to his swelling eye. “What reason would a devout worshipper of the king’s gods have to protect one traitorous guard? I don’t know where she is.”

“She’s safe,” Basille murmured, disbelief coloring her words.

They were both silent for a moment, Malak taking the cloth from her and holding it to his bruise as she retrieved another. As she turned back to face him, she saw his expression had faded into one that was growing all too familiar. He opened his mouth, hesitating a moment before he spoke. 

“How are you?” 

“The gardeners planted peonies today,” she said, nodding towards the window. “I think I’m going to have some brought tomorrow.” 

“Basille…”

She started, suddenly realizing that he had been addressing her by her first name since he had entered the room. Gods, she must look awful. “I’ll be okay. Perhaps I can find her someday, but if not, at least she’s safe.” 

“Do you think there’s any way out?” he asked, and she sighed. 

“Reinne and I used to talk about leaving together,” she murmured, feeling tears well into her eyes. “When we’re old, and the king doesn’t want me anymore. We wanted to go to Banamore, be married before their gods. Perhaps, if I can give the king his heir, I could join her in time for us to raise our own children.” 

She broke off, and Malak watched her for a long moment. “But?” 

“I don’t think it’s more than a dream,” Basille admitted. “The king will never let me go, and even if he did, how would I find her? The Banamorans were my only hope, Malak. But even they couldn’t save me.” 

Shifting his jaw, Malak leaned against her dresser, his cold cloth still pressed tightly to his eye. “Well, for as long as you’re in this palace, you will not be left alone. I’ve made too many promises for that, not least of all to myself. I’m loyal to my country, but…”

He hesitated. 

“Yes?” Basille prodded.

“I’m loyal to you. Quite outside of your position as queen. I’d like to help you, whether in your escape or in your sanity. I consider you to be my friend.” As he finished, awkwardness jumped into his eyes, and he shifted. “Your highness.” 

Cracking a smile, Basille just looked at him for a moment. “Thank you, Malak. I’m glad to not be alone in this.” 

He nodded jerkily, looking to the ground as he replied. 

“You never will be.”

**Author's Note:**

> Expect very quick updates, i have most of this story already written and all of it plotted. 
> 
> Visit my [Tumblr](http://witsyo.tumblr.com) for art and updates!


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